Joining so many other things in the month of June is ball. My little sack of baby bones, Isabela, looks forward all year to ball. Softball is her thing. If I'm not careful I will miss this joy of hers because of the ache in my bones that grows deeper everyday as the month of June rolls on.
I almost did.
And I knew it. Which is why in the dark early morning hours of June 13 I typed this below. My tenth grade typing teacher, Mrs. Jones, would be 'shamed - but not surprised.
my arms were too tired andi almost missed it and i did. until now. tired body in bed, dirt in my shoes, grimey face as being pusehed down. lips pursed just so for the sendond inning, candy stuck to wrapper, dirt on outside of cup. 14 hours and counting.
i nned to wite it down. tell my childen what they already know. i must move my body out of care so ic an type
i will write and type, speaak and sign why
It was the best I could do. The typing in the dark to remember for her and fulfill the purpose of this blog.
There had been tournaments all day, she played six games - four of them back to back in 98 degree heat.
My duties got the best of me and beat the mom in me out and I left after the third game to go put up corn so I wouldn't have to throw it out. I kept reminding myself about the decorations at the church that were still waiting for whenever the tournament came to an end. So I left.
Her daddy stayed. He never would have left.
Then the mom in me lifted my character high and I returned to cheer her on. Everything else would have to wait.
What a day she had. They placed second in the tournament and pride was all over her dirty sunburnt body clothed in a uniform that might never come clean.
Bible School would begin the next day with a luncheon and kick-off. I was only half-way there to what was needed for Monday as I finished up the corn and later the ache was deep and my mind running full throttle when my body stopped to rest for the night.
So, weeks later I will now interpret the scribbling I had to do before my mind would let my body rest . . .
My arms were so tired I almost missed the joy of the day, until lying in bed and replaying it. The dirt in my shoes that matched the dirt on the outside of Max's cup, preventing him from drinking. The Laffy Taffy candy so melted it stuck to the paper. The fall he had, right on the face, the dry dirt becoming wet as it clung to the tears.
The second inning of the last game and Isabela's glance at me before she pursed her lips just so and placed her body in position. The desire to win formed with her body.
Fourten hours and counting and there was still corn to finish. Hours later I lie down to rest but I can't because the day was too special and I must write before I forget. To tell her what she already knows - how proud of her I am.
I'm so glad I got up and blindly typed that
Maybe I would have forgotten softball meant Laffy Taffy for Maxster and Isabela never played a play without glancing at me first.
What a shame that would have been.
