Fair or Foul?

The pitcher’s mound is dark with rain.  The path from home to first is sloppy.  But the puddles have been filled with sand, and the fathers have just put down a fresh white line clearly delineating fair and foul.

Little girls in raincoats attack their own field with rakes.  Watching them, I find myself thinking back to when my daughters played softball and all those years when I didn’t say a word despite the cold burn of resentment I saw smoldering in their eyes.

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Softball Season

Just as school is drawing to a close, and parents are relishing the thought of a three-month reprieve from educational duties—no band concert to attend, no homework to check, no spelling words to memorize—sports season rushes in to fill the void. 

For my daughters, the sport is softball.  On the evening of the first practice, we rush out the door, “Is your homework done? Have you practiced your clarinet? Hurry up, we don’t want to be late.”

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