The Yellow Ball
Any type of ball is our type of ball. Even yellow ones. We braved the chilly weather, me dressed in a comforter and him in his cowboy boots, and watched from the stands as the church softball league battled it out. It's nights like these that remind me of those days, long ago, that 4 redheads and a brunette ran amok at the softball park while dad pitched and mom supported our Slush Puppy obsession. We spent much of our childhood there, and the majority of those memories are ones of great joy. Of innocence and laughter. Sometimes, I find myself missing those days, but I remind myself that eventually, the days at the park will come full circle, and instead of me and my siblings running around in wild freedom, I'll get to watch my kids enjoy it instead. And that's a good feeling. I love this game. It's been a part of my life since the day I was born and I'm quite thankful for all the memories I've made because of it.
In other news, I forgot to mention that Adam received a call from the minor league pitching coordinator on Tuesday. He's been invited to a mini camp for selected pitchers prior to Spring Training! Such good news! Good job Adam!
And just because: I love you Mom!
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