She Has Me in Her

In taekwondo, the kids are practicing flying kicks.

“Turn your body. Knee high.”

As the master explains, Big Bear nods—

solemn, determined.

This time, she’ll get it.

She’ll earn the stripe.

She walks to the end of the mat.

Starts running toward the dummy.

She jumps.

Turns.

Her knee is low.

⸻

I knew the moment she landed.

She was disappointed.

Other parents clap.

“That was the right idea. Good try.”

Even the master reaches out for a high five.

But I knew.

She wasn’t satisfied.

⸻

Her face goes still.

She sighs.

Lowers her head toward the mat.

She doesn’t cry.

She takes a deep breath.

Then she walks back

to the end of the mat again.

⸻

She has me in her—

but not completely.

I would have cried.

Stomped.

“Ugh.”

Then gone back to the end of the mat.

She is persistent like me,

but steadier.

Sometimes, I envy my daughter.

She is trying to become like me.

And somehow,

I find myself trying to become like her.