A BLAST FROM THE PAST from the RUNNING IN HIGH HEELS series by Jane F. Collen

I was outside giving my seven-year-old son batting practice in the middle of the afternoon, abandoning the desk full of files waiting to be worked on, pitching around the blister I got from gripping my pen too tightly.


I did a fairly respectable job getting the ball near the plate – and my son could hit anything in the same zip code anyway. So balls were flying. But we only had a few, so then we had to walk through the itchy grass, my high heels sinking at every step, to retrieve them.


I was not a happy camper. My son had been lobbying to have a batting practice all afternoon. He tried friend after friend to start a pick up baseball game at our house – but they were all busy with one scheduled activity or another. (Sleep-away Archery camp? Really? For a seven-year-old boy? Isn’t that dangerous?) I was the only mother this side of the Pecos, apparently, who had not found gainful occupation for her son outside the home. But I could not play: I had deadlines to meet! Other children to attend to! I was too busy/important!

The basket of balls was emptying fast, and I was just thinking, maybe three baskets are enough, when I heard:

‘Mom! Give me your curve ball!”

Huh? My what? Then it struck me (a thought, not a ball luckily): not only was I exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to do, but that all too soon my son would cease to ask for my curve ball, because he would realize –I just don’t have one!

The gnats (or whatever the heck the pesky flying things buzzing around my head and in my eyes were) ceased to bother me. The sun beating down on my head relentlessly in the July-hot sun stopped giving me a headache and just felt sunny. My arm no longer felt numb from the elbow down, and my high heels finally just sunk into the ground, at least making me level!

I renewed my efforts at my best pitches. This was a golden opportunity to spend some time with him, doing something he loved. No! (I shook off his pitching sign – he was both batter and catcher!) No! I realized I was given the privilege of having him share something he loved with me.IMG_2150

© Jane F. Collen May 1, 2015





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