GRANDMA NOTES
Stolen Bases
by Louise Hogan
It is
a sunny warm evening. Caroline is
filling her bucket at the sandbox, and then carrying it across the yard to pour
the sand into water in the upturned saucer sled. There she laboriously mixes it into proper mud pie
consistency. She checks the
thickness by painting the mud on a rock then turns the rock upside down and
shakes it to make sure the mud stays in place.
Ryan
talks me into playing baseball. He
has brought out his ball, bat, two gloves and a helmet. He instructs me on how to put the
helmet on properly then busies himself scattering blocks of wood around for the
bases. Ryan becomes the pitcher
while I become the batter with a too small helmet perched on my head. Although I do make it to first base a
couple of times, I soon have three outs and am retired to pitching.
Ryan
hits the first pitch and I scramble after it, and then turn to chase him as he
rounds first.
“Hey,
where’s second base?!!” he yells
as we come to a screeching halt.
“Where
ever you put it”, I yell back.
The
thought crosses our minds at the same time and we both turn toward Caroline,
who is happily painting a block of wood with mud.
An
argument ensues while I sit down to catch my breath and share a grin with Avery
who is looking down on the commotion from her perch at the top of a tree.
With
second base restored in its rightful position, I pitch again. Foul ball. Third pitch – high hit over the swing set and Ryan completes
a home run with one man in.
Next
pitch. I am ready for a long one
but Ryan bunts and I scramble forward to get the ball; I skid, drop the ball,
grab it again as Ryan rounds first, second and ……”Caroline! PUT THAT BASE BACK!!!” Third base has been painted a muddy
brown.
I lie
down and stretch out gazing up at the blue sky as Avery smiles at me from her
perch in the tree. The longer the
fight takes, the longer I get to rest.
Unfortunately, Dad comes to the window and quells the argument. Darn.
Finally,
all bases are restored and we resume the game. Ryan is going easy on me by this time, but soon I am out and
pitching again. Ryan hits one
homer (at my pace, a homerun is anything I don’t immediately catch), then
another.
He’s
up for the final inning. I pitch
high and wide. He hits it into the
sandbox. I scramble. He rounds first; second; then
“CAROLINE!!!!!” There, in place of
third base, sits a basket with a stuffed bunny. Avery jumps down from the tree and is running, yelling,
“HEY! That’s mine!” and grabs
third base.
The
game is called on account of sisters.
May, 2009