Writing EDD 12/31/15 — Spit Like a Girl

The sound came from behind her nose, the phlegm rolling around and being pushed towards her 9-year old tongue. By the time I turned, with what I’m sure was a look of disgust, she had let it fly, a thick white glob of mucous on the red dirt, not liquid enough to spread, just resting there like a ball of mercury. She didn’t even look at me, not caring about what I thought about the slimy mess that she had just left there on the trail, a delivery that the most grizzled, bearded baseball player would be proud of. Without seeking my approval or my reaction, and with a quick tug of her pink and black zebra print tights and a glance to the upcoming hill, she ran ahead, leaving me standing there, shading my eyes against the sun as her long, dark ponytail flicked back and forth against the light.