Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Hope Springs Eternal

I'm coming off a stretch of 5 mediations, a day of depositions and a half day in Court.  That's the price I had to pay, I guess, for the time off work I took in late January and early February when my mom got sick, then died.  

The good news?  I didn't have much time to think about what I had lost.  To grieve, really.  The bad news?  I didn't have much time to think about what I had lost.  To grieve, really.  

Now, I have the time.  And it hurts.  But I'm dealing with it - stoically, I think, as my mom probably would.  I don't talk about it to others, as much.  When I'm asked how I'm doing, like I was when I had coffee with an old friend yesterday, I smile and say, "I'm all right," then quickly change the subject or steer the conversation in a different direction. 

The heart always heals.

So, last night, we had our first baseball practice for the Dodgers, J.P.'s 11 - 12 year old WNSL baseball team.  We've added a few new boys to our roster this spring, so I'm actually running two teams with 19 total boys.  It will be a challenge but one that I'm really looking forward to, for sure.  

I'll also be coaching the Junior Dodgers, Joe's 7 - 8 year old WNSL team.  Their first practice is this weekend.

I needed last night, at practice, in a big, big way.  Shaking hands and introducing myself to the new dads last night before practice - as they leaned on the fence down the right field line; introducing myself to the group and having each boy tell me and our coaches his name and favorite baseball team, as at the boys stood in a circle around me; talking quietly to my assistant coaches; joking with the boys during practice; hitting infield to the boys; throwing with Joe; and hoping into a drill and sprinting to first base with a stopwatch on me as the boys cheered.  

All of those things, and more, helped restore a sense of normalcy to my life that had been missing.  Yes, my mom's gone and that makes me terribly sad.  I miss her every day.  I ache for what has been lost.  But, still, it's baseball season.  And last night, for a little more than an hour, I found myself back where I belong - on a baseball field in the waning light of an early spring evening, coaching a bunch of 10, 11 and 12 year old boys. 

I smiled the whole time.       

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