A girl and her sport

I miss being able to play. I miss being labeled as her. The girl they called a robot. The girl who never seemed to break. The girl who could take a hit, get up, and keep going. Nobody asked if I should play. They just expected me to. Then one day, I disappeared from the game. And suddenly, everyone became careful. "Are you sure you should be doing that?" "Maybe you should sit this one out." They mean well. I know they do. But every warning feels like a reminder that I am no longer her. Today I played. Just a school tournament. Nothing important. Yet the moment the whistle blew, I remembered. Why I stayed after training when everyone else went home. Why muddy boots never bothered me. Why this game became a part of me. For a little while, my heart felt whole again. Not careful. Not patient. Not recovering. Just whole. And when it was over, I realized something. I don't miss football. I miss her. The girl who never had to wonder if she would get to play again.