It’s 12:30 on a Saturday. The fields are ready and so I run. Long distance, I get updates of Owen’s baseball games from the city. First game, he leads off with a double! They get up big! He’s on the mound, keeps their score low (they might get their first win of the season).
Pitchers change, they lose in the bottom of the last inning. I’m not even there and I feel a sting. Winning isn’t everything, but—still—it’s something.
Next game, he hits a home run, his first! My eyes tear up, just as they did reading in on the first game. I know it matters to him. For that, they matter to me.
Life is full of choices, obligations, and duties. Often, in fixed and limited time—they step on one another and we do the best we can giving ourselves, our efforts, love, and time the best ways that we can see.
This afternoon, Matthew has his first piano recital. He had played for a year and a half. This is the first time he will play to a gathered and listening audience. For this, I will be there.
I will love to hear him play. I will tell him that I do. I will tell he makes me proud; and when his brother meets us—even though I didn’t see—I will hug him and tell him just the same.
Time given; love spoken, shared, and shown, I will go back to the field: further duty of the spring, doing as I’m able. Of time and life: giving as best I can.