Worth It

A neon-orange inflexible plastic ball repeatedly smacks into my face.
The spectacular moment directly before impact, where silence exists but for the crinkling of leaves under my tensing shoulders.
I prepare for launch again.
One orb in each hand

I exhale

My left arm shoots up, weaker, less accurate. The sphere rolls off of my fingertips and soars upwards.
I am perfectly still

I inhale

My right arm shoots up, full of fury. Unleashed from my palm, the ball barely grazes my outstretched fingers.
Though both headed in the same direction, the first ball must sense its doom. Though travelling upwards still, gravity insists on imposing on its flight, and it slows.
My arms have both crashed down to my sides, and I brace for impact, the electrifying crack the flying globes make when one pushes the other higher in midair.
The intensity of the moment is too much. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen.

The balls miss each other, their trajectories simply off, a fact that eludes me in my child-like anticipation.
The first ball lands harmlessly a few feet to my left.

I open my eyes.

I exhale.

The second ball hits me in the face.

I inhale.

I start over.