This is an enchanting story of a magical charm.
Upon opening a new can of tennis balls, two seven-and-a-half-year-old girls walk onto court 3 and position themselves. Juliet, receiving the first ball hit to her, whacks it back high over the net with a smart resounding blow. The forehand stroke is so whopping solid that the tennis ball flies over the backcourt’s wire mesh fence covered with a black waterproofed canvas tarpaulin and into the unused narrow strip and awful dirt passageway.
Juliet and her friend dashed to the back-gated fence and shoved open the unlocked wire-meshed exit gate. Seeing the yellow-orange-and-white ball half-submerged amid a sinister-looking mini swamp of dead weeds, worms, and old tennis balls dead for a decade or longer, Juliet said to her friend, “Yikes! I’m not going in there to get the ball. Snakes might live there. Unless Mom on court 9, the clay court, has an extra good used one. I’ll watch her play, then go home with her. Stay with me, and we’ll drive you home.” Then something strange happened.
This is a warm and wonderful story of a sweet eight-year-old girl named Juliet who truly and endearingly loves the magnificent game of tennis.
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