Not ordinary soccer, it’s soccer with four siblings on ground so bumpy with grass so tall the ball won’t go straight, around the old dog so focused on his bone he barely looks up as the ball whizzes past him and the puppy runs circles with a rope trailing from her mouth, threatening to trip us all. Soccer in the 8:00 evening light in church clothes and muck boots and Boy Scout shirts, with shoes untied and jeans ripped and the horses watching from the other side of the electric fence that isn’t on, but they don’t know that. Using apple trees as goal posts and a broken car as out-of-bounds, it’s soccer in my back yard, soccer that the summer air will preserve forever somewhere deep in the starlit summer sky.

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