Kick To Freedom

Everyday they waited. Not for the school bell to ring. Not for the bus to pull up to the corner of the street the lived on, opening its doors and letting them out.

No - they waited for that special time, when the sun would begin to fall rapidly, plummeting down below the edge of the trees and surrounding favelas, as if it had somewhere more important to be. That time of night that the sky would bleed red - a crimson that quickly faded to black, revealing the stars in all their glory. Right before the last bit of color would drain from the sky, the lights would hum to life - bathing the field in a clean white swath - presenting the lush green field.

They'd be waiting, sitting in their living room, ears keen for the sound of electricity pulsing on. The lights had a very distinctive "click." The moment they heard it, they'd be out the door. Running as quickly as they could down the sidewalks, through neighbors' backyards, over fences, and around trees. Pumping their little legs.

Their first steps onto the grass were always memorable - even if they did it everyday. It felt so soft beneath their feet, through their cleats. Each blade of grass seemed to reach out and embrace them, wrapping around the bottom of their shoes, holding them close - welcoming them to the field. Each one loved the smell for different reasons - it was fresh, it smelled wild, like nature - it smelled empowering. It was just the two of them, running around, chasing a ball, passing it back and forth. Laughing. Smiling. Falling down, feeling the turf against their skin, rolling around.

To anyone looking in, they just looked like two young boys, horsing around with one another, acting their age - doing exactly what they should be. But to them, they were on the grande stage - surrounded by thousands of fans cheering their names, wearing jerseys with their numbers on them, in the middle of a giant stadium, representing their families, friends, and country. When they were out there, they could do anything, be anyone. They were heros.

To them it wasn't just a field. It was their future.

A way to escape the slums.