Invisible baseball. Racing around an open field. Playground posing.

That’s what we did together during one of Camden’s baseball games this Spring.

We started with the easy stuff:  you hanging on playground bars and posing against a bright blue sky.  Difficulty factor for you: zero, except of course when you’re in a larger group and struggle to join or crack a smile. Funny how that works! sometimes it’s so easy for you, other times, not so much.

Your brother plays on a big baseball field in Durham that adjoins another baseball field – the other one was unused that particular night.  So we decided to run the open field, racing each other, side by side. We drew a starting line and took off in a straight line all the way to the first base line across two fields. then we turned right, aiming for the ultimate finish line goal we had agreed on  – touching a corner of the distant green dugout.

Then we did it again. And again.

You’re a very good runner – remember this when you get older… track & field might be a natural sport for you.

As your blonde hair blows in the breeze, you smile and never appear to be winded.  Running seems effortless.  Your Mom’s running talent must be in your DNA.

I was glad I run three days a week – four to six miles each time.  It made our escapade as effortless as possible for a 59 year old.

After jaunting about the open fields (which you would have done forever), we stopped and played on the empty baseball field.

I was the pitcher – on the mound- and you were the batter. Winding up, I’d throw imaginary baseballs as you held an imaginary bat.  Sometimes I’d throw so much “heat” you couldn’t touch it: STRIKE ONE!  Other times, you knocked it hard into the outfield and ran the bases at full speed, scoring an in-the-park home run.

hooray Ainsley! nice hit! way to go!

 

the sun was low in the sky – golden light time – and you couldn’t get enough of the imaginary baseball.  After awhile you wanted to pitch invisible baseballs to me. I pretended to strike out, but you insisted it was a hit and told me to round the bases.

I had to coax you into stopping the game so I could catch a bit of Camden’s game:

just one more pitch Papa, I want one more hit!

And of course, I obliged, throwing another heater toward the plate.

You hit it out of the park. Amazing.

P.S.  back to the running… you reached the green dugout before me every time and were very proud of this achievement.