It’s that time. Baseball season. Practice starts. New gear. Excitement. Justin is officially on the team this year, chemo and neuropathy and all. He says, “Mom, I’m the slowest runner on the team because my legs don’t work good.”
This is difficult. Because this is Justin. The athlete. The fastest runner on his pee-wee soccer team. The two-year-old who could hit a plastic ball way across the yard with his Little Tykes tee-ball set. The kid who wrestles his bigger brothers to the ground. The kid who never gives in, which you find completely admirable and completely annoying all at the same time.
To him, this is unacceptable. I get it.
“Well, then, you’ll just have to hit the hardest.” He likes this idea.
Mental note. Make time to pitch to him in the backyard this weekend.
Still. Baseball or not, Justin is here with us. Today, he is still here. And I make it a habit not to look too far beyond. Grace be with you, my friends.