Vanessa Enriquez Sunday
Just me and my dad on Sunday mornings, as my mom ends her night shift and my brothers are lost in their dreams. On our way to Coolidge Park my dad stops by for coffee. It takes twenty minutes to get to my game. The corn man and the hotdog guy rush me towards my teammates. I step out onto the field and the ref blows the whistle. Everyone can hear my dad on the sidelines calling out my mistakes; I can hear him getting frustrated “tu primero”. The more I ignore him, the closer his voice gets. You first, you first! And that’s game. Every week there’s no dodging our talk back home. “si solo supieras” if you only knew, he says. Here we go again.