Rain Shot

White gulls strewn midfield. Around its periphery run boys in burgundy jerseys and navy shorts. Bulked in layered clothing, hunched away from the mud, I pause, waiting for the oval line of boys to warp, waiting for a boy’s dash at the birds. When it comes, the whoops of the boys and the calls of the lifting gulls are rain muted. Whose memory am I standing in?
-29 January 2014