Leaving Harper snuggled up with my mom who was visiting for a long weekend, Paul and I headed to the ball fields with the boys.
It’s late fall and the end of the season. Shoes are broken and beat up after being worn and passed down from one brother to another. T-shirts have given way to fleece jackets and cheeks once warm from the sun are now rosy from crisp cool air.
The barren fields, cold and quiet, are now warmed and lit by a sun that sits much lower in the sky. There is a peaceful, near loneliness to the fields as they seem to call out, begging to be played on again.
For a few hours, the quiet and solitude was lifted as the four of us cracked the bat, cheered, ran the bases, called plays, laughed and chased one another around until dusk settled in.
These are the moments, the simple last minute moments, that really are so special.