Andrew stood in his backyard, the soccer ball at his feet. He kicked it against the house wall, goal posts marked with charcoal. He did it again and again, scoring goal after goal, feeling a pang of sadness as memories flooded his mind.

His dad used to play soccer with him, sometimes standing on the porch, shouting out advice, cheering him on and teaching him to persevere. Sometimes even showing him some fancy footwork. A jinx left or right then a quick flick of the foot and the ball was away. Teaching Andrew the skills his father had when playing First division soccer as a young man.

Then when he was gone, just the memories kept Andrew going.

The reverberations of the ball smacking against the wall seemed flat. Without infliction of joy or excitement. The yard still echoed with the crack of the ball hitting the wall, but it was an empty sound, a thud of no purpose. A slap that replicated how Andrew felt, devoid of the laughter and camaraderie him and his dad had once shared in, during their many times together.

A wind gusted, and the twirling leaves flitted through the air in clouds of dusty debris. Autumn was the season and the wind brought a whiff of rain and a bite of cold with it. Andrew shivered and sniffed. He could not help but feel a sense of foreboding as if spirits watched him mockingly from another world, while keeping his father’s spirit hostage and out of reach. Not allowing him the time that Andrew loved to spend with Dad and which he craved so much. His loneliness was tangible. Clawing at his throat.

As he kicked the ball harder and harder, the snapping thuds echoed back at him louder and louder, building up with his frustration. The wind, the leaves, the dust all welling up around him, combining with the churning emotions inside him.

Why did dad get sick? What is the point of loving someone so much then losing them?

Did it make sense?

Nothing really made sense anymore.

Everything was just sadness and anger and most of all loneliness. His friends from school played video games, XBOX, Playstation, Nintendo. Things Andrew didn’t have at home. Sometimes they invited him over to play, but they very seldom wanted to reciprocate and come over. His house had different rules and at first he had resented it, but then dad had explained that a young boy should be outside, enjoying nature and doing physical activities, not cooped up watching the goggle box as he called it, or even worse, interacting with it. Andrew was pretty sure there was room for both elements in his life, but being denied those types of entertainment meant he had no choice and had learned to love the time spent in the yard. That is, until dad was gone.

In fact at this moment, for Andrew, despite being sad, he knew these moments helped him remember his father, the steadfast way he approached everything. His never-give-up attitude. Andrew had always admired his father for that and always wanted to be like that. So now, despite the cold, despite being alone, he had gone outside to maintain his practice after weeks of neglect, as if to make his father proud again. He took a deep breath and tried to crush his grief.

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His mind churned and brought him to his next thought. Even Mom never had time to spare anymore. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Sure, she hadn’t coached him, nor even spent time with him in the back yard, but she had read to him wonderful stories that made him laugh and imagine worlds of wonder, filled with magical monsters and impossible adventures. He especially liked the one about the gallant knight striking fear into the hearts of those who would do evil.

Sometimes Andrew imagined himself to be that knight, and he would swoop in and save dad from the sickness that struck him down. He didn’t get it, and for sure he was tired of adults always telling him he would understand about it one day. All he understood was that the disease was the enemy and it had taken something precious from his young happy life.

He missed those days where sometimes as a family they had gone on long walks in the park where he could kick the ball freely and chase it around. Sometimes dad would participate, but that didn’t happen so much in the last year of his life, and so mom baked cakes instead and let him scrape the batter bowl with searching fingers.

Now she was always too busy. Her time at the hospital almost constant because of all the extra shifts she took. She said she loved being a nurse, but it didn’t seem like it anymore.

Andrew realized how lonely he felt, that he was yearning for someone to fill the void his father's absence left behind. Their house in a cul-de-sac, bordering on a national forest, had a garden shed at the bottom of the yard, but it was locked and unused since dad left. Andrew had tried to rake up all the leaves, but with the changing of the season, it was a losing battle. Dad would have known what to do.

In his moment of sadness and frustration, Andrew kicked the ball with all his might. It soared through the air, only to take an unexpected bounce from the house wall and disappear over the fence into the forest beyond. Sighing heavily, his shoulders drooping, Andrew trudged over to the spot he had seen it pass over the fence, dreading the thought of having to climb through and rummaging in the overgrown foliage of what felt like a very spooky and foreboding forest.

With great reluctance, Andrew reached for the slab of loose fencing and pushed it aside. He peered through the hole it left. He was familiar with this route, a secret entrance to the forest. He had used it from time to time in his twelve years of life but the shrubbery had piled up against the fence in the last while, so he had to push it all aside, careful not to get his clothes caught on the brambles.

If mom saw his clothes ripped or torn, she would know he had been into the forest. Something both his parents had worried about and discouraged. Perhaps she wouldn’t even noticed though. She was so tired when she got home and had asked him to put the laundry into the washing machine the last few times on his own, and then hang it out for her. She even complained when he didn’t do it right. Andrew much preferred it when he was younger and didn’t have to worry about such things.

Andrew pushed aside the branches and leaves and stared into the forest of way too-tall trees and thick bushy undergrowth and much to his annoyance, way too many brambles. He couldn’t help but shiver when the feeling that something or someone was watching him tickled at the back of his mind. Gooseflesh prickled, perhaps the gust of cold air that snuck down the back of his jacket.

With a flicker of anticipation, Andrew gently pushed aside the overgrown foliage, making his way through the secret entrance into the unknown.

As he passed through the fence, a new feeling filled him. A feeling of excitement. His gooseflesh was no longer spooky, it instead thrilled him. The forest beckoned with rustling leaves whispering secrets, promising tales of enchantment and wonder. He felt a tingling in his awareness and a flutter in his heart, as if the forest held the key to unlocking something within him.

Andrew suddenly knew that stepping into the forest would bring new discoveries and unexpected friendships, guiding him on a path of healing and growth. And as he took that first step, he couldn't help but feel a surge of hope, knowing that even in the midst of loss, there were still countless adventures awaiting him, just beyond the familiar walls of his lonely backyard. He stepped though with determination, and began to search for his ball.