Spirit Child
My second rendezvous with the yellow fuzzy balls went terrific. Blasting forehands and backhands with abandon, I had never had so much energy on a tennis court. Playing at last without the thick mental fog and physical exhaustion caused by my food allergies, only a growing blister on my right palm forced me to stop after one hour.
I arrived home flying high with excitement, and was greeted by my 7-year old Elena: “Momma, tennis is your passion. If you don’t follow your passion, you will never find out who you really are!”
