Rocket man

in #writing5 years ago (edited)

Joan couldn't do what every other child her age could do, but she was going to give it her best effort. All of the other seven year-olds loomed beside her. Although they were much bigger they looked just as nervous as she was. Marci, who looked like she was used to being in the sandy arena bent over and tugged several times on her pointed boots before launching herself onto the sheep. Joan noted that she had two large fistfuls of the coarse coat grasped tightly between her freckled fingers. The bleating of the skiddish animal did nothing to persuade any of the participants to back off. Even when Marci went face first into the cold sand no one chickened out. Joan was used to the idea that she might get hurt. She could see her mother's traumatized face over in the stands. Her pink cheeks were filled with air and her arms were wrapped around her like a blanket.

Her Aunt Becky was all smiles, "Now, you get in there girl and show them how it's done." She patted her gently and pushed her forward.

Her complete confidence made Joan smile and actually consider how this might be fun. It didn't matter, if she was ever going to be normal, she would have to borrow courage from her Auntie and do what she had been forbidden to do for two long years, play.

The buzzer sent a shock wave down her legs. She thought her knees might buckle until Marci came back spitting and laughing. In that instant all of the hours spent in the hospital bed forcing herself to eat a small bite of peanut butter and jelly disappeared.

Her name boomed over the loud speaker and for some reason she decided to take a bow. Laughter and applause fell over the crowd in a wave. Joan was swept up in the moment and ran toward the fully gray animal hurling herself like a rocket onto his back. She couldn't hear or see anything, in fact the entire sixteen seconds was a blur. When she found herself safely on her hands and knees she felt the best she had since forever.

Aunt Becky scooped her up There were tears running down her face.

It was her debut performance and she rocked it. It was official, she was kid, an ordinary kid and nothing was more glorious than that.


I would probably feel the same:

She could see her mother's traumatized face over in the stands.

Been there...

What a beautiful story!! It feels good to be normal 😀👍

Posted using Partiko iOS

I love that children are singular in their pursuit of joy.

Great story. Better riding on a sheep than a horse for youngsters.

I attend the rodeo in our town every year and hold my breath when the barrel racers pound past me. I'm not one to enjoy without fully considering the liabilities...I hate that.

Am here with the weekends freewrite prompt.

Just this once, and you're glued
this freewrite prompt is single.
A double portion of anointing
Comes on whoever tried multi-prompt writing.
Do have a nice weekend.
Happy New Month.

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