Bright sunlight
shines on my head,
making my hair
look even blonder than usual
as I stride down the asphalt road
to the park
with determination
gleaming in my eyes.

Soon, I halt behind the white painted line
in front of the tall volleyball net,
toss the scarred and well-used patriotic ball into the air,
and attempt to smack it over the net.

Just like an hour before
at volleyball practice, though,
I fail to send the ball
soaring into enemy territory.

After seeing me serve,
my mom rattles off some instructions
and, following them,
I move up
so that I can touch
the rough net.
With ease,
I serve the ball over twenty times
and move back a step.

As I follow this routine,
I again find myself
at the dreaded white line,
who mocks me for my incapability
of serving.

“You’ll see,”
I answer back to the serving line.
“Someday I’ll be able to get the ball
over the net easily.”

With this in mind,
bright sunlight
shines on my head,
making my hair
look even blonder than usual
as I stride down the asphalt road
back to my house
with determination
gleaming in my eyes.