Chapter 5 #2
“I’d love it, but only if it’s something she loves. I’m not forcing it, but I’ll support her own goals. You had baseball. Baylor was all about football. I had the rodeo. The ranch is the perfect place to dream as wide as the sky.”
I’m not sure I’ve seen this side of my sister. Maybe it’s because I’ve been out of the house since before she turned fifteen because of our age difference, or perhaps it’s because she’s a mom with a family of her own. Either way, I’m glad to see it now.
I steal one more bite of pie and then stand. Three kids and a husband keep her busy enough. She doesn’t need me to add myself into the mix. “I’m heading back to Dad’s house. I need to ice my shoulder.”
“I’m still not sure how you got roped into this game, but I’m glad you said yes. I love having the family together again. Greene Farms is a sponsor—”
“Oh yeah? Guess I can’t let the family down, then.”
That makes her laugh again. “No pressure from us, old man.”
Chuckling, I reply, “Let’s hope the ice helps, or you’ll be sneaking out of that stadium not wanting to be seen.”
“We’re stepping over enemy lines to watch you play again, so there’s a little pressure.” She holds her fingers almost pinched together. “Just a wee bit.”
Since she brought it up again . . . “Speaking of enemy lines, what is the history with Dover County? What caused the ruckus between our families?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know how that legend began. I’ve just always known there was a rivalry. Not sure I ever heard the cause.”
“Yeah, me neither, but I’m curious.”
“Oh great. Now I’m curious, too. I’m sure I’ll be thinking about this at three a.m.” She rolls her eyes. “If you find out, let me know.”
“I will.” I walk around the island and playfully lock her into a hug, kissing her head. “I’m glad to be back.”
My nieces waking from their nap gives me time for a quick hello before I start back across the field and up the hill to the other house. While working out my arm, I start to wonder if I’m getting too old for this.
It’s not something that’s crossed my mind even as the years ticked by.
I’ve played here and there, picking up a few games in Mexico and Japan as a fill-in when their third basemen got injured, but it’s been a while since then.
I’m feeling it, and don’t know if ibuprofen can put me back together like it used to. Here’s to hoping.
One thing I know is it sure does feel different walking on this hard earth at thirty-five than it did at fifteen or even twenty-five, when I’d come back to visit.
I can kid myself that some things change and others stay the same, but it’s not the things or the land.
It’s me. And that’s never been more apparent since returning.
Life has moved on without me.
I rub my shoulder, feeling the tightness of the muscles while wondering where I fit into this world, or even how I fit anymore. Maybe I don’t. But I’m still hoping to figure out why I jumped on a plane the first opportunity I was given instead of booking that ticket to Fiji like I’d planned.
I’m pretty sure I’m not getting the answers on a ten-minute walk. I’ll set that aside in my mind to enjoy being here again.
A few animals are sheltering in the nearby barn when I pass it to head up the front porch. As I tug the screen door open, it squeals like no one found the time to oil it in the past ten years. Probably didn’t.
My dad tended to overlook those kinds of tasks, which annoyed my mom. He could work and run an entire farm and cattle ranch, even manage the small crew working the orchard, but taking two minutes to oil a squeaky screen door always remained on the list at the end of the day.
I’ll take care of it like I did back then.
I just won’t have my mom standing nearby praising me like I was Superman who just saved the world.
She always valued the little things the most, preferring a horrible finger painting from school to a piece of jewelry.
Being home again pulls random memories closer more often.
I can still see her holding the necklace I bought when I signed my Major League contract, and the way she admired it around her neck.
“This is too much, Griffin. Where would I wear something so fancy?” The words are still so clear. It’s her voice that’s fading.
When I open the freezer, packs of ice line the door compartment like my dad still has athletes at home to nurse back to health.
I have a feeling it’s another thing left on a list somewhere.
He’s also recovering from knee surgery, so I leave some in there for him.
I grab a couple of packs and head to the hall closet.
If I’m home, I want to soak in the time I’m here.
I drag my finger down the boxes, landing on a puzzle, then tug it free from the others.
Moving into the living room, I pull the coffee table closer to the couch and dump the pieces out.
I don’t remember a time when my mom didn’t have a work-in-progress puzzle set out on this table.
But when the others went to bed, she would sometimes let me stay up later and scavenge for pieces with her.
The house was quiet, except for the low hum of a late-night TV show in the background. That time meant more to me than she knew because she always made me feel special.
I open the side table drawer and pull out a roll of athlete’s tape.
She always made me sit in this very spot on the couch and get taped up when I was injured and heading into a game.
If she could see me now . . . Trying to pretend I’m still twenty-five.
I wrap the tape around the packs and over my shoulder to secure them in place.
The ice doesn’t bother me. I’m used to the numbing sensation.
The first few puzzle pieces come together easily, but the green pasture will be a challenge. I have the time, it seems—a few days at least to knock this out.
But busying my hands doesn’t busy my mind, which is already wandering back to Cricket Dover of all things. Talk about a wrench being thrown into a plan. She may have popped up at the stadium and back into my life, but I know one thing for certain. I don’t believe in coincidences.
Damn. I did not see her coming . . .