a true story

Once upon a time there was a little girl that loved tennis. At first, she admits, it was all about the outfits. But soon it became more than just the newest pleated skirt and more about how hard and fast she could wack the ball over the net. She spent tireless hours perfecting her strokes, moving her way slowly up the rankings when a silly fall down some stairs landed her with two fractures on her left wrist. "Who needs a backhand anyway," she thought. "I'll just work on my forehand and footwork and continue improving my game as best as I can." And so she did. Three to four hour work outs became her norm that summer. A dumb sweaty old cast wasn't going to slow her down. No sir-ee-Bob. The cast finally came off and life as she knew it was sparkly and new again. Til one day, the little girl who loved tennis, while in a third set tie break match, heard a pop on her right wrist which forced her yet again to the inside of an all too familiar Instacare. Severe tendinitis was the new diagnosis. "No more tennis til it all heals up. Could be weeks, could be months", she was told. With the start of High School tennis a couple weeks away her dream of playing Varsity seemed impossible. Driving to and from physical therapy with her love being put on indefinite hold she leaned over to put her broken little hand on her mother's hand and said, "Thank you. Thank you for driving me to and from all these visits and caring so much for me. I don't know what I'd do without you." At that moment, the girl who loved tennis and her mother just cried and cried. And her mother knew that even more than a love for tennis the girl had developed a grateful heart.

Her coach saved her spot on Varsity until she was well enough to hold a racquet again. Last week she and her doubles partner who went undefeated the entire season, won Region.

Tomorrow and Saturday... STATE!!