Here’s something I wrote as an exercise for my writing class. I’m really quite stunned with how it turned out, especially since it took about 5min and isn’t remotely important. Maybe I am “doin it rite”. 😉
It’s been forever since I’ve been to a kids’ ball game. Since I was in one, probably. I wouldn’t have come today either, but it means a lot to Fran.
It’s been almost four years since Sam passed, but it hasn’t gotten any easier on her. Being father and mother to an energetic kid like Sammy, plus working a job and keeping hold of one’s sanity, is no task for the faint of heart. But she’s a trooper. She shouts something encouraging to her boy as he goes to bat; he turns to us with a cheeky grin, just like his dad’s. Dust rises from beneath his feet as he trots up to the batter’s box and assumes the position. The aluminum bat catches a glint of sun, momentarily blinding me. The pitcher stares Sammy down with the most evil eye I’ve ever seen on a 7- year old. Sammy returns the glare. The pitch: low and outside. Sammy swings anyway.
“Shake it off, shake it off! You can do it!” Fran calls. Sammy adjusts his batting helmet and settles back into his stance.
The pitch: the swing. With a thunk Sammy makes contact; the ball goes straight up into the air, and straight back down into the catcher’s waiting mitt. The crowd cheers. Sammy trudges back to the bench, dragging his bat, his head hanging low. The coach pats him on the shoulder, murmuring something we can’t hear.
“It’s okay, buddy, you’ll get it next time!” Fran barely keeps the desperation from her voice. She so wants the team to win, so wants something good to happen for Sammy for once. It’s been a long time.
I wish I could stay. I wish I could be here for my baby sister and her boy. The kid needs a man in his life. But like his dad I must go where I am sent, catching only fleeting moments like this.
I hope he can forgive us.