Came and Went with the Growing

There was this tom girl

who was as strong and

feisty as any boy I knew.

For a sixth grader

she could hit a tetherball

with power and passion,

as if needing to prove something.

I took a whipping from her

on more than one occasion.

Back and forth,

at a swirling pace,

we would pound the ball

like a hammer with clutched fists.

If she lost she never gave in

without a fight.

She was never dominated by the boys.

Whenever the rope was taut

around the pole,

like a boa constrictor,

and the ball could swing no further,

a winner was declared,

usually her.

So this came and went with the growing;

the game of tetherball.

With tetherball

you quickly learn that

the longer the ball

travels around the pole,

the easier it is

to make contact with it.

As the ball is reeled in,

it becomes increasingly difficult

to hit due to the acceleration.

Whenever Dad spanked me

for some mindless shenanigans,

I got smart quick and

applied the game of tetherball.

My bottom became the ball,

Dad's arm, the tether,

and his body, the pole.

During the heat of that moment,

I drew closer to my Dad's body,

tethered by his left hand in mine.

In his right hand was a

wide brown leather belt folded over.

As we went in counter clock-wise circles,

the harder it was for him to strike me

with a full swing of the leather.

Anticipating each hit,

I would arch my back

pushing the ball forward

to lessen the sting ever so slightly.

Admittedly, that was not

a standard tetherball maneuver,

but it worked!

I still cried...

I only wished I had learned

the technique of tetherball earlier

to help ease the pain of learning.

This also came and went

with the growing.