Shared Strength

I remember it vividly, the smell of the gym, the sound of the ball as it landed to the ground and the feeling of an exhale that tasted of failure and relief.  There have been numerous times in my life where I have made 100 free throws in a row, which is why it came as such a surprise when I missed when the game was on the line.  Everything about me that day was capable except for that loud voice inside of me telling that it can't be done, that the situation is different, that I should put the ball down and leave.  As the ball bounced off the right side of the rim, before falling in what appeared to be slow motion the ground, I could feel the internal voice reassuring me of my mediocrity.  Brushed under the rug, the thousands of hours spent in practice.  Forgotten, the capability earned through worthwhile choices.  I remember learning to hate basketball as I spent my time yearning for the game to be pure, like it was in the good ole days.  Sitting and moping like the game of baske

 The coals of the two room shanty house lay smoldering in the hot Arizona sun.  The day prior was just an ordinary day, the Madison School for education and then home to play in the barrio that was his home.  The shanty house was not much, just a little shade from the blazing sun in the Summer and generally dry protection from the monsoons in the Winter.  But now it was gone and to make the situation worse his older Sister Florinda is in the hospital.  It would be several hours until he learned that he would never see her again in this life.  Her passing marked the first moment of true sadness for the 9 year old boy, a pain that he thought could not be worse.   Life continued for the small Hispanic family, a new house was found and life slowly returned to normal for young Librado.  His Mom Josefia continued to show signs of great sadness from the passing of her daughter. His Mom was a beautiful woman from El Triunfo in Mexico's Baja Peninsula.  It was in that small town that her Da