The catch

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His life was falling apart. A handsome man sitting by the side of his bed on the floor was reflecting over his brilliant past. He used to be on top of his game always. The kind of person that makes everyone else around at least a little jealous. An outstanding student, an obedient son who always came up to the expectations of his parents, a mesmerizing debater, and the captain of the school football team. He was the kind of child other parents would tell their children to be like after scolding them over their mistakes.

He always played as the striker. He remembered the last game he played as the team captain. Planning the play of each player in his team he would lead the ball, strategically dodging the defenders, ditching the goalie, and with one single strike, into the net.

Goal! Everybody yelled!

He was the star of that match. ‘Ahh!’ he says, stands up and goes stumbling towards the shelves on the wall opposite to the window. ‘I miss my old self’, he says with a sigh while looking at his achievement certificates and trophies.

Suddenly, thinking about nothing, he turns to the cupboard, opens it, takes his tennis ball, and goes upstairs. The 4 inch border of the rooftop was unable to block the sight of this 6 feet tall man, as he wasn’t that little child anymore. ‘That little, brilliant, succeeding child’.

‘How did I grow up to be a failure?’ he went towards the north corner of the roof as it was comparatively darker and quitter. There, between the store room and the border railing, he stood thinking about his failures. ‘Look at me, I’m a mess!’ He starts playing catch against the wall. His life being played in fast forward from the first moment of his life he remembers until now. Standing near the railing, he started striking the ball on the wall of the room and caught it as it came back.

Each strike on the wall made him gloomier, each catch reminded him of a mistake, of a choice he had made wrong, of the decisions he made and now regrets. He was no more the man he was expected to be. He was no more the man he wanted to be.

The rate of ball striking the wall was increasing along with his heartbeat. “Why me?” Tears rolling down his chin.

‘That’s not how it should be? Ball striking harder than before every time. ‘No, I was a good person, a successful person, where is everything I had?’

Heartbeat raising. ‘I just don’t understand why I can’t go back and make things right’. Thrust on the wall. ‘One chance!’ Harder thrust ‘Just one chance!’ He was so eager about catching the ball as if it symbolized a chance and boy if he had that chance, just one more chance at life, he will not waste it this time. Even harder thrust. ‘Just one more chance’. Thrust! He jumps, his right hand up high in the air to catch the ball, the ball goes over the railing way up his head making him lean backward on the railing to catch it. He slips on the railing. In a snap, he drags his right foot behind pushing his body forwards to avoid falling off the roof, and lands on his knees.

Heavy breaths, his doubts melting away with each drop of sweat dripping down his face, his heart running with the wind, he hears life whisper into his ears, ‘Every new minute you get to live is a another chance.’
He puts his hands on the ground, looks up at the sky, gets up, turns around, goes by the railing, smiles, and yells,
‘I caught the ball!’