Just when you think the whole world has reached the pinnacle of rotten idiocy, something happens that helps to restore a bit of fresh and normal to the universe.
My son just called and related, to his children's grandma, that his family would be spending this coming Sunday, at the local Little League Baseball Complex. One of the grandboys has a tournament. Wow, I thought, that brings back memories. As the mother of three sons, I've spent more time than I care to think about, on my butt, seated on a bleacher bench.
It seems like only yesterday, that I loaded a cooler, full of Gator Aid and water, a couple of lawn chairs and/or stadium seats, into the trunk, and took off for a day or a weekend, at a distant soccer field or ball yard. In reality it was over 25 years ago.
The experience brings back memories of little brothers and sisters, covered from head to toe in talcum powder-like dirt, playing "cars and trucks", under the bleachers, during the games of their brothers. Buying expensive snacks, from the stand, when I actually brought enough junk food, for the whole team, in my purse. Whipping out sunscreen, Neosporin, bug spray and Bandaids, from the same suitcase size handbag, to solve all the minor problems of anybody's family member, seated near me.
I always thought, because there were so many things to attract my attention, away from the game, that I would be killed by a foul ball, striking me on the noggin. I could almost read the headline....., "Little League Mom Dies While Wiping Child's Nose".
Ah, those were the days! But, you know, I'm not eager to go back. I'm through with bleachers. I've been there, done that, and as the saying goes, "Got the Tee Shirt". Actually, I pitched all of those outgrown and stained tee shirts, years ago. Now, I wonder, how I can get rid of of the Letter Jackets, that are still taking up room, in my closets?
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Dearest Lord: Memories are the spice of life. Thank you for being there for us, even when we weren't looking. You are our Rock and our Salvation.
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