My daughter Nina wanted to quit gymnastics.
She's been practicing with her team three times a week. It's been a real
commitment — not only from her, but from us as parents too. On
Tuesdays and Thursdays practice doesn't end until 8pm, so by the time she gets home it's already late, and she's exhausted.
One night she told me she wanted to quit. She kept saying how tired she was, and I didn't blame her. I believed her.
But she loves gymnastics. She wasn't asking to quit because something was wrong, or because she'd stopped enjoying it. She was just tired. And I didn't want her to walk away from something she loves because of a hard stretch. So she stayed.
Then last week, her team uniform arrived. Her name was printed on it. She came home with the biggest smile.
That night, I made her Japanese noodle soup and sat down next to her.
"Nina, I need to tell you something."
I felt her body react a little — like maybe she thought she was in trouble.
"I am so proud of you. You have worked so hard. Look at where you are now. If you had quit the team when you wanted to quit, you would not have this uniform right now."
She went very quiet. She looked down like she was trying to hold something inside. And then the tears came. I hugged her, and then I was crying too.
After a little while, she took a breath and went into the bathroom. I could hear her crying a little more in there. Then she came out smiling and said:
"I wasn't crying because of the uniform or gymnastics. I cried because I got a stomachache."
I just smiled and told her it was okay to show her emotions.
It was the first time I have ever seen Nina cry like that over something she accomplished. Pride, relief, struggle, happiness — maybe all of it at once, and too big to say out loud. So it became a stomachache.
I hope that feeling stays somewhere inside her.
I hope one day, when something is hard and part of her wants to give up, she remembers this moment.
Fumiko
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