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Stephen’s amazement with the sport didn’t stop there. The next event he watched was the men’s high bar. Stephen fell into even greater shock and amazement at how the gymnasts were able to throw their bodies around, up, and over the bar. Twisting their torsos, switching grips, and even letting go to perform flips and grab hold of the bar once again. He remembered how much he’d struggled with plain old pull-ups on the bar he had in his backyard and couldn’t believe how easy these men made everything seem.
He realized how far ahead of him they were and how much more he’d have to grow to just compete in the professional world of athletics. This was emphasized by the lack of American athletes at the sport’s highest level; there wasn’t a single American in the finals for the high bar that year.
After the high bar were the parallel bars and the Pommel horse, each event lacking an American athlete in the male finals in a year filled with Soviet and Japanese gymnasts. Both events were similar as they involved two slim parallel bars or a thicker bar with handles at its center, all a few feet from the ground. The gymnasts would then perform more acrobatic tricks on these bars using their hands and arms to hold onto the bars while their legs gave them the momentum to perform their maneuvers. Stephen was in awe and couldn’t help admiring the toned muscles of the gymnasts’ upper bodies, comparing them to his own. It inspired him, and soon he no longer noticed the lack of American athletes within the events themselves.
Yet Stephen had not reached the pinnacle of his admiration. He fell most in love with the last event, the men’s rings. No Americans had qualified for the finals, but he’d completely forgotten about rooting for his countrymen and simply appreciated the art of the sport. He was indulging in spectating in its purest form, the same way any young boy does with something that fascinates him. During a single afternoon, he became obsessed. He fantasized a whole career in gymnastics and built a complete training schedule for himself without any idea whatsoever about how to properly train in gymnastics. But that’s what children do; they dream huge, extravagant dreams, then build up these nearly insurmountable goals.
“Stephen!” Amelia called. “Hurry up and set the table, please. Your father is pulling into the driveway and dinner is just about ready.”
“Okay, Mom!” Stephen replied, snapping out of his trance, and turning off the TV.
He gathered the plates and cutlery, without hesitation or malice, and stacked them neatly in a pile to carry them over to the table all at once.
Kane lay napping on the mat in front of the kitchen sink, to be woken only when scraps of food fell in front of him as Amelia cooked.
Stephen heard the engine of his father’s truck die.
“Mom, did you see any of those gymnasts earlier?” Stephen was excited to share his new interest.
“I was wondering what sport it was that kept making you shout like that.” Amelia chuckled warmly. “You were so close to the screen that your head was blocking the whole thing!”
“I’m sorry.” Stephen’s chin dropped, and his mouth scrunched up to one side.
Amelia smiled and tousled her son’s hair. “It’s okay, baby, just remember next time to move back a little or else you’ll hurt your eyes and get a headache. Soon enough you’ll need glasses.” She finished with a smirk.
Stephen replied with a smirk of his own as his mother turned away to finish cooking. He grabbed his stack of plates and cutlery and brought it over to the table as his father walked through the door.
“Dad!” Stephen rushed to his father and hugged him, ignoring the filth his clothes had accumulated from a full day’s work.
“Wow, what’s got you all fired up?”
“I was watching the Olympics, a-and the sports are so cool! The athletes are super strong too! I’d have to train like all day if I want to look like them. Their arms were huge!”
“Oh okay, buddy. Let’s take a breather and finish setting the table. I’m gonna wash up and then you can tell me all about it over dinner, okay?”
Stephen nodded, a big smile on his face, excited to share his new fascination. He rushed over and finished preparing the table.
When dinner was ready Stephen helped his mother place it on the table, and they waited in their seats as Stephen’s father finished getting ready. No one in the family would eat until everyone else had sat down. It did not matter whether if it was Stephen’s father they were waiting on, Amelia, Stephen, or even a guest who was running late. Even if the food was prepared and was getting cold this was the ritual, which had been established out of respect for everyone attending the meal.
When his father finally made it to the table, Stephen and Amelia greeted him with smiles and he thanked them for waiting. As they filled their plates, Stephen sat quietly, patiently waiting for his father to bring up the Olympics; he was afraid he’d annoy his father by being too eager. He had a plan, and he knew that getting what he wanted would take meticulous work as well as very delicate execution.
Once everyone had filled their plates, Stephen’s father put his arms reaching out on each side, gesturing for Amelia and Stephen to join him in saying grace. Calculating the best way to carry out his plan, Stephen had momentarily forgotten about this other household rule. They rotated who would say their prayers and this instant so happened to fall onto Stephen’s turn.
Unprepared, Stephen followed his mother’s lead, grabbed his father’s hand, and then his mother’s.
“Uhh, t-thank you Lord for this meal we are about to eat. Um, and thank you for all that you have done for this family and for protecting us from the harms in the outside world. Thank you for, umm uh…”
His parents looked at him as though they could sense that something was bothering him.
“And thank you for Dad’s job and his truck having no issues for almost three months now, and please continue to watch over us. Amen!” Stephen stammered as he rushed to finish his prayer and end his internal torment.
“Oh, and thank you on behalf of Kane too since he can’t speak to you and all that, but he’s been awfully good, and I’m sure he would pray too if he could. Thank you, Amen.” Stephen quickly added, remembering that he usually mentioned Kane whenever he said grace before a meal, and his parents’ stares made him question what he’d forgotten. He smiled nervously at his parents and nodded, looking for their approval, but they just sat with confused looks on their faces.
“Well, that was one of the more interesting ways I’ve seen somebody say grace, but okay. Let’s eat!” Stephen’s father said. “Thank you for the meal too, sweetie.” Stephen’s father took a bite and then leaned over for a kiss. “It’s delicious.”
“Thank you dear.”
Stephen’s father settled back into his chair and ate his meal in silence. He glanced over at Stephen, who had been picking at his food without much interest and looking back and forth quickly between his plate and his father. His father knew instantly what was bothering him, but he decided to tease him by making Stephen wait a few seconds more. Finally, he asked,
