I have an invisible daughter. Only I can see her. Her soccer coach cannot see her. Neither can her teammates.
During practice, a whole field of coaches could not see the invisible girl as she wandered off the field and almost into the neighboring woods. Past ten coaches and one hundred kids, the invisible girl can go wherever she wants - lost in her own thoughts of butterflies and rabbit holes with Alice.
During a game, the invisible girl sits by herself on the sidelines. She will never say, “I want to play.” It’s not that she doesn’t want to play… she loves to put on her uniform and cleats and is excited about every game. When given a chance, she will run after the ball and play hard until she is tired. She can only run for a few minutes at a time - but plays with her heart. But to ask to play could mean that she might miss picking the perfect daisy or catching the perfect butterfly. So she will never ask to play.
When I suggest to the coach that she let the invisible girl play, the coach seems angry. “She doesn’t want to play,” she says. “Try her,” I insist. The coach tells the invisible girl to play, “right here.” An invisible box is drawn on the field for the invisible girl to play in. She mustn’t venture too close to the other players or they might see her. It is a deal that the coach has worked out with the other coaches. No one will pay attention to the invisible girl. No whistle will be blown if she kicks the ball the wrong way because she is playing her own invisible game. She is an extra player on the field but that’s OK, because she is invisible.
I’m not sad that she has only played a total of 10 minutes the entire soccer season. The revenge will come later.. You see, when the coach and players see her sometime during the summer at the store or on the playground.. she will suddenly become visible and they will probably say, “Hello.” And she will say, “Hello,” back because she is polite, and she is friendly and likes to make new friends. But she will not be saying hello out of recognition. She will not know their names or remember where - or even THAT - she has seen them before. That is my revenge - that she will treat them no different than any other stranger because they have not taken the time to make an impact on her life.
And that is what makes me sad. I’m sad for them. They have missed the opportunity to teach her a fun new skill, they have missed the opportunity to be a friend to someone who has few friends, they have missed the opportunity to let her feel like a normal kid, they have missed the opportunity to join in her imagination that reaches to the stars, and they have missed the opportunity to hear the best laugh in the world. And that is their loss.
We have had to abandon other sports and ballet because of her health issues. She is not allowed to participate in gym class at school or play on the playground equipment. For her to stick this out and to want to participate has been a huge step for her.
I’m so proud of her.. my daughter.. the invisible girl on the soccer field.
http://cornerofcottage.blogspot.com/...cer-field.html
I wrote this about my 7 yr old daughter who has Landau Kleffner Syndrome (epilepsy).
During practice, a whole field of coaches could not see the invisible girl as she wandered off the field and almost into the neighboring woods. Past ten coaches and one hundred kids, the invisible girl can go wherever she wants - lost in her own thoughts of butterflies and rabbit holes with Alice.
During a game, the invisible girl sits by herself on the sidelines. She will never say, “I want to play.” It’s not that she doesn’t want to play… she loves to put on her uniform and cleats and is excited about every game. When given a chance, she will run after the ball and play hard until she is tired. She can only run for a few minutes at a time - but plays with her heart. But to ask to play could mean that she might miss picking the perfect daisy or catching the perfect butterfly. So she will never ask to play.
When I suggest to the coach that she let the invisible girl play, the coach seems angry. “She doesn’t want to play,” she says. “Try her,” I insist. The coach tells the invisible girl to play, “right here.” An invisible box is drawn on the field for the invisible girl to play in. She mustn’t venture too close to the other players or they might see her. It is a deal that the coach has worked out with the other coaches. No one will pay attention to the invisible girl. No whistle will be blown if she kicks the ball the wrong way because she is playing her own invisible game. She is an extra player on the field but that’s OK, because she is invisible.
I’m not sad that she has only played a total of 10 minutes the entire soccer season. The revenge will come later.. You see, when the coach and players see her sometime during the summer at the store or on the playground.. she will suddenly become visible and they will probably say, “Hello.” And she will say, “Hello,” back because she is polite, and she is friendly and likes to make new friends. But she will not be saying hello out of recognition. She will not know their names or remember where - or even THAT - she has seen them before. That is my revenge - that she will treat them no different than any other stranger because they have not taken the time to make an impact on her life.
And that is what makes me sad. I’m sad for them. They have missed the opportunity to teach her a fun new skill, they have missed the opportunity to be a friend to someone who has few friends, they have missed the opportunity to let her feel like a normal kid, they have missed the opportunity to join in her imagination that reaches to the stars, and they have missed the opportunity to hear the best laugh in the world. And that is their loss.
We have had to abandon other sports and ballet because of her health issues. She is not allowed to participate in gym class at school or play on the playground equipment. For her to stick this out and to want to participate has been a huge step for her.
I’m so proud of her.. my daughter.. the invisible girl on the soccer field.
http://cornerofcottage.blogspot.com/...cer-field.html
I wrote this about my 7 yr old daughter who has Landau Kleffner Syndrome (epilepsy).
