Red dust between my toes, sandals are never a good idea; but, ahhhh those toes haven't breathed in that much fresh air for too many months. Glad I brought a jacket, the popcorn scented breeze is cool, it'll be too hot soon.
The familiar sounds make me feel at home, the thwack of a ball in a mitt, the ring of a hit, laughter, groans, little kids whining for one more treat from the snack shop. Steeerike!
There are the stands full of familiar faces, "Hi, were we on the same team three, two, years ago? The phrases we haven't spoken for 9 months come back easily...
"Keep your eye on the ball!"
"Way to get a piece of it!"
And my favorite, "It's all right, you'll get 'em next time!"
I love the way my boys still leave the dugout to say,"hi", and ask for pointers, which I willingly give them, as Adorable Hubby rolls his eyes. I dread the days when they come over to cry because things didn't go their way; but, not as much as the thought that one day they won't want my hug and tender meaningless words, at least not in public, in front of peers and coaches.
I love watching boys grow, 13 year olds are all sizes and shapes, some are still scrawny with huge feet, others look like they shave each morning. They are finding their personalities and voices as well, it doesn't take long to match parents and boys.
I look forward to this season, like I look forward to spring. It's one of those things that didn't make it into the life plan I envisioned in High School, or college or even after the births of #1 or #2. #3, my first baseman, my miniature Babe Ruth, he brought me this love. "I gotta go say hi to some friends Mom, I'll meet you at the car. Oh and Mom, thanks for bringing the treats!"
"Thanks for bringing me to the love of the game #3."