Chapter Two
An unlikely meeting and an unlikely love, my parents met at a Thanksgiving holiday party, November 1988. My mom was this beautiful free spirit with a lust for life and adventure. My dad on the other hand was lost in anger and mom says, "He was going nowhere fast". My dad had grown estranged from his family and was living with his best friend Isaac's family at the time and Isaac happened to be my mom's cousin. Mom says it was love at first sight when they met that thankful day, but dad says he thinks he loved her before he knew her and that he was drawn to her without even knowing it.
They must have done something right for each other because they both inspired each other to attend the Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle, Washington. Mom was a beautiful jazz and contemporary dancer while dad studied writing and so began his obsession with play write. They lived a life full of art walks, shows, writing and reading, dancing and choreographing. To this day, in their bedroom there is a shelf in their closet dedicated solely to photo albums and framed pictures and mementos from those years. When I was younger I would often ask my parents to, "Please, please, please show me your pictures." They would sort of roll their eyes, but both with a grin, and lead me back to their room. We'd sprawl things out all over the bed and I'd interrogate them, completely fascinated with the full life my parents lived before I or Shane were ever born.
"Mama, who's this?"
"That's me sweet heart."
"Wow…." I owed and awed. My mother was stunning in a black and white side shot of her arabesque on point while performing a solo contemporary ballet piece for her senior finale.
"Isn't your mother beautiful? That's why I had to marry her and make babies with her," dad teased as he scooped me into his arms and then scooped mom into his arms so he had us both snuggled and laughing.
"Steve, seriously!" Mom tried to get away, giggling embarrassed.
"Don't fight it Darla." He demanded until she succumbed to his hold. I remember being so happy that my parents loved each other so much.
When I was three Shane was born. I love him to the moon and back now, but when I was three his home coming was the worst news I'd received my whole life up until then. To distract me while mom tended to Shane tirelessly, my dad started taking me to the park down the street with a soccer ball. We'd play on the field for hours, kicking the ball up and down the field, or taking turns seeing how far we could kick the ball with one good shot.
By the time Shane was one and I was four, I had gotten surprisingly good. Every day after school and anytime I could on the weekend's dad would take me to the field to play. And when I wasn't there, I couldn't help myself but to think about kicking that ball, the feeling of speed and control as I travelled down the field with the ball before kicking it into the net and the tired out restful peace I always felt afterward in the car ride home.
Eventually my mom started coming too with Shane. One day when I was six years old, on the car ride home I overheard my parents talking low up front.
"She practiced from noon until dusk today Steve. We've got to get her onto a team, some proper training."
"You know we can't afford that right now."
"I know, but that's our little girl Steve. She's got something. She's got what we had times two. It's only a matter of time before that field and that ball aren't enough."
"I know. Darla, sometimes I wonder if it was her idea or my idea to go to the field that first time we went. I thought it was me, but now, thinking back, I'm not so sure. I've often wondered why that was what we did. I'm not into sports Darla. I'm the least likely man to take his little girl to play soccer, and yet there we were. It was like I just knew that's where she belonged."
I hoped and prayed that someday I would find a way to play soccer, real soccer, without costing my parents money. I hated hearing the distress in their voice and I knew money wasn't something we had a lot of. But two months later on my seventh birthday my mom and dad gave me my first set of soccer gear, complete with cleats, guards, and shorts, and instead of going to the field I was introduced to the Green Lake soccer team and coach Isabella McDonald. I'll never forget that first day of soccer practice in my new gear with my family watching on the side lines as I warmed up and showed off my home grown skills. The shy girl I was at school had found her place on the field with a team and the other little kids flocked to get to know me; so many firsts.
