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Journal Entry
Sept. 16th 2010
The football fits perfectly in my arms, almost like a newborn baby. Autumn butterflies with crinkled leaves for wings crunch underneath my signature sandals as I take my stance. The ball takes flight just as the afternoon sun shines down on our vacant field. She makes a wrong move, distracted by the sun and its tantalizing shimmer. I hear a cry of surprise and pain, causing me to gasp. She's not as coordinated as I am; she doesn't understand the game or the plays. I should have known this would happen.
Ma always says girls like frilly dresses. Girls like petunias, kittens, red barrettes, and sweet smelling perfume. She says girls like boys. Girls marry nice boys with a sensible career and produce two kids and live inside the confinements of a white picket fence. Girls stay home to cook, clean, and care for the offspring while boys work, play football, and take week long vacations to foreign places like New York and Toronto.
If this is true, then I am a boy.
Because when I glance her way and our eyes lock in this hypnotic harmony and my heart is pounding in my ears so loud I can barely hear her call me "sir", all I want to do is hold her tight until she promises me she'll never leave, never ever. If only boys can love girls and only boys can do what makes them happy then maybe I should be one. Maybe I should cut my hair, dye it neon green and begin wearing Pop's ties with sleek chains hanging off my pants. Ma wouldn't approve but she's too busy watching soap operas to actually care what I do.
I'm by her side and the look in her eyes describes her embarrassment perfectly, which I find cute because when she blushes it looks like the kind of pink you find in summer sunsets. Her glasses are askew on her nose, tempting me to giggle but I refrain and take the pigskin in my hand.
"Sorry sir, I just got..."
"Don't worry about it Marcie. Let's go to my house for cookies." Together we run through piles of autumn butterflies, aiding them in their flight to freedom. One day we'll fly away too, just like butterflies.