The Observer

Her name was Abagail. I had watched her play before. Our rooms are conveniently located next to the sports side of the campus, luck for me, the most athletically challenged person alive. We must have a team, us as in the students from Southeastern University, because they are always there, day and night. It is always the same girls playing. Almost like I used to be with my guitar, why I had stopped I do not know really. Devoted to the court, with tennis I mean. But, for some reason to the one girl this it is not just a tennis game. It is much more. I always notice her. As if her just being out there is an attraction. I used to be attracted to watching singers perform with their band, not just at church, but anywhere. You usually know if she is there because there is a somewhat larger than usual audience. She draws people. I noticed her on this particular night because she was no longer playing drills with her team, or being tested by her coach, but playing a young guy. He was someone close to her age by the looks of things. He was someone I recognized seeing with her before around campus. Seems like when you become the most devoted to something is when you draw the most attention. Everyone wants to be your friend when you are going places and doing things with your life. When I first started learning guitar I let him show me how to play one of my favorite songs to listen to. That is how it starts. Innocent at first, then you become them, and when your devotion becomes human and no longer moves in a fame like direction they move to the next “devotie” they meet. Such a shame for her really, seeing as she really is so good. Your eyes are almost instinctively draw to her, as if she commands your attention without saying a word. Even people from the courts directly beside hers have to stop and watch. People at the bench escaping the heat and drinking from their water bottles almost loose their thirst for a moment in regards to the verosity they show the plastic. The first time I ever sang at church, I was very young. I walked up on the stage in the middle of service. I could tell the pastor and everyone on the first row did not expect much because they were continuing to whisper and point at the bulletin. The moment the first word escaped, the pastor immediately looked up. His assistant dropped the bulletin. The words from my mouth almost like a tennis ball straight from her racket. Commanding everyones attention. This match was different though. She did not have the same extreme focus. She was laughing and acting childlike. Smiling at all his bad serves and huge dramatic dives from just her gentle tap. I see her around campus and everyone recognizes her. They congratulate her on being well taught. “You are so talented”, they say. “What a gift God has given you!” My pastor said the same thing. It is funny how everyone suddenly remembers your name when you are going somewhere, especially him. Only he left with a part of me. She seems to walk around happy and proud of herself. But, I wish I could ask her the same thing I have been asking myself. Do you have a love for the passion or a love for the fame?


(Anyone reading this story from back home...Know that this is a fictional story. As in made up!!)