The Spaces Between Your Fingers

Click the image to flip

Flip
I interviewed my aunt Mary at my apartment when she came for a visit. We’ve always been close, but this was the first time she was visiting me in Philadelphia. It was really awesome catching up with her and her best friend. While interviewing, she told the story of when they originally met back in little league, before they reconnected in middle school and have been for 30 years since. This memory means a lot to her because Tara was always a constant in her life and has been apart of our family since before I was born.

It was a hot day, but she loved the game. You could see it in her eyes and the way she jumped out of the dugout. There was no fear either, not in a kid that was about to be a legend. She had watched the sport for years, she had read the books, heard the radio and you better believe she practiced every free day she had. She waltzed right up to bat, shoulder straights, feet planted, a trail of flaming footsteps behind her. The umpire pulled out a handkerchief, red... It was a hot day, and she was bringing more fire in her little hands than his years of little league umpiring had prepared him for. The pitcher rocketed.

"Ballllllll One!"

Maybe too confident, she searched the crowd for a familiar face. Her quiet mother flashed a smile and waved a flag for a new boost of encouragement. The next ball came, you could practically see the heat lines coming off it, even if the eye had trouble tracking. Splinters broke, smashed, flew right into the ground and stayed there to watch. 

"Foul ball! Strike one!"

She grabbed a new bat, a metal one this time. You could swear the bat was alive with its own fears and dreams the way it began to sweat out there, the day was far too hot. Far too hot to even keep her concentration of the flying ball when all she could see was sweat dripping from every parent in the stands. 

 "Strike Two!"

The Earth stood still, still so that only the sun could beat down. And it did. Beat down with shining rays that only two on that field really stood in. Her and the pitcher. That sun was theirs, that heat was theirs, and none had interesting in sharing. The pitcher adjusted her hat that last time and it flew, a blur of motion, a blur even to the ears, but the batter felt it.

"Striiiike threee. Out!"

She left, not upset about striking out, but interesting in the striking pitcher. At the dug out, she approached her.

"Hi, I’m Mary."

“Tara.”

And so, it began. 

Little League, Big Friendship

Flag as Inappropriate
1980's
Scranton, PA

I interviewed my aunt Mary at my apartment when she came for a visit. We’ve always been close, but this was the first time she was visiting me in Philadelphia. It was really awesome catching up with her and her best friend. While interviewing, she told the story of when they originally met back in little league, before they reconnected in middle school and have been for 30 years since. This memory means a lot to her because Tara was always a constant in her life and has been apart of our family since before I was born.

Decade: 1980s
Rating:
Recorded by Nina Cesario on December 9, 2019
×
×
4
×
Alert IconAre you sure you want to permanently delete this postcard? You cannot undo this action. Delete
×