Bobby watched the tennis ball travel from one end of the court to the other. It soared; it seemed to fly. To be as free-range as a ball amidst a game would be similar to a bird taking flight. But unlike a bird who can roam wherever, whenever it chooses, a tennis ball is forever bound to the space of the court. It has freedom, but also boundaries. Bobby sat on the pavement, watching the game progress and the ball travel to and fro. The sun beamed down on her shoulders, slowly changing them to the color of ripened strawberries. The afternoon Summer hours were often grueling and tedious. Bobby enjoyed tennis, but also desired to be more mobile. She felt as if she could escape the heat and the boundaries of the court by moving her legs. She wanted to run one day; far, far away.

Lost in the movement of the ball and her thoughts, Bobby did not realize the session was coming to an end. Above the court was a white bird, flying rather high in the air but only traveling a small distance. She pondered, why would it stay here when it could go anywhere? She became fixated on the bird and its circular pattern of flight. As Bobby was distracted, the session seemed to abruptly end; instructors and peers of hers were collecting balls into baskets. When she came to realize the rapid movement around her, she stood still, and peered out of the court, expecting to see her father in the parking lot, where he waited for her each week to take her home . She looked down at her watch and realized that practice was ending an hour earlier than usual. It seemed everyone had been aware of this early dismissal except Bobby. She had always been driven home, but it seemed that her car had not arrived yet. Today she was alone. Bobby was only twelve years old, and hadn’t a cellphone or driver’s license yet. In fact, she had never even walked home on her own before.

She grabbed a tennis ball from one of the baskets and returned to her spot on the pavement where she felt the intense heat of the sun on her skin once again. She wiped her neck and forehead, which had been covered by beads of sweat. Bobby began to bounce the tennis ball in front of her lap, following its movement with her eyes. The ball flew high above her head, just barely licking the sky. Up and down the ball went, seemingly stuck between two walls. Letting out a long sigh, Bobby realized she could not sit for another hour. By the time her father arrived, she would be burnt to a crisp. She thought about departing on her own. She had the desire to go; go beyond the court walls. Above her, she noticed the white bird was still circling the area. For a minute more, she watched the bird fly. This time though, it broke its pattern, and began flying northward. It flew up and up into the sky, farther and farther north. She watched it until it eventually disappeared into the soft glow of the sun and white clouds. It was then that Bobby arose from the ground and decided to trek home.

Before heading out on her journey, she picked up the tennis ball she had been bouncing and brought it along with her. She took in a deep breath as if to prepare for the road ahead. Although Bobby knew the way home, she couldn’t help but fear getting lost. Lost, or abducted, or hit by a vehicle. Regardless of her fears, she stepped forward; soon out of the court. She began on the path, taking with her every ounce of courage she had. Beyond the tennis court was the parking lot, and beside it the busy street in which cars seemed to never stop moving. She watched the cars move from both directions, steadily speeding behind one another. Bouncing the tennis alongside her waist, she followed the cars with her eyes; not letting a single car escape her sight. A car was something that had almost as free a range as a bird. But unlike a bird, it could not fly. It was tied to the boundaries of the streets, never able to leave the ground. It could however, roam freely on land, where it was almost never bounded to any one area. It was, in a sense, free within its own boundaries, just as the tennis ball.

Once she was past the busy area of fast-moving cars and streetlights, Bobby entered into a quieter place. She walked along a sidewalk path beside a pond. In the middle of the pond was a fountain spewing droplets of water in such a way that from afar, appeared like a sprouting flower. As she continued on the route, she passed by more pretty sites of nature; trees full of gleaming ponds, small animals, and the refreshing drops of lawn sprinklers. She soon found that this path was rather enjoyable. She took her time with the walk, breathing in the Summer breeze. She had never paid much attention to these details when merely passing them by inside her car. From her backseat window, she could notice the scenery, but never fully take it all in. She was bounded by the car door; only ever able to view things from the inside. Her eyes were free to examine her surroundings, but her body was not. This time, all her senses were in tune to the world around her. Bobby could feel the pavement beneath her feet, the clean air on her skin. She smelled the breeze wafting over from the pond, and heard the mellow croaks of frogs along the water. This path she had chosen to take was best walked alone, where she could absorb all the details in full and appreciate the intimacy between her and her senses.

Eventually, she reached her own neighborhood. Coming closer to her house was both relieving and disappointing. She hated to see her adventure come to an end. By walking into her home, she was returning to her boundaries. She would no longer be able to roam freely and take her time lingering on the beauty around her. Bobby could however, take this walk on her own again. She could tell her father that she would now prefer to walk home by herself after every tennis lesson. She finally came to the front porch of her house, but took a moment before turning the handle of the front door. Entering her house will mean submitting to the powers above her; her parents would once again be in control of her and her freedom. She hated the thought of this, but also knew it to be inevitable. Eventually, a tennis ball returns to the basket, but perhaps she had found freedom, even within her boundaries. She reached for the tennis ball in her pocket and squeezed it tightly. Today, Bobby was grateful for the freedom she had been privileged with, but still dreamed of the day she could become a bird.