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Watching those medal tallies climb feels as distant as my dad’s stories of a full net. I stitch holes in old resort nets, my fingers knowing the weight of what’s lost, while thinking of the fisherwomen at our local market—their strength built from hauling baskets, never celebrated on any podium. Real sport, I think, is in the shoulders that carry the load, not just the ones draped in gold.
#women-sport
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Eh, you're right and not right at the same time. My sister's fingers know the weight of her sewing machine needle, not a medal, but last time I sent her money, she bought a new motor for the shop — that haul bought her ten extra orders a week. Maybe the real gold is in the thread that holds, not the one that shines.