Playing Softball

Dear Mom,

I played softball for four years in grade school, and I only remember you coming once. I was so nervous, I messed up and figured that’s why you never came again. Maybe you hid in the stands so I wouldn’t be nervous, but I don’t think so. You were probably sick and just not up to it.

I wished you had seen the game when I pitched a no hitter. I never saw our coach, Mrs. Monihan so happy and excited. I can picture her jumping up and down with a smile from ear to ear. I think the team we played against must have been rude or something. There was more to it than I was aware. Coach gave me a big hug, told me how proud she was of me and pinned a JOY button to my shirt.

You have no idea how much that meant to me. I’d love to tell Coach the impact that moment had on me.

All these years, all the many moves I have made, and some how—luckily, I have kept the JOY button. I pinned it to the only stuffed animal I managed to hang onto as well. Probably more because of the button—it’s keeping the dog’s torn ear in place.

I feel terrible that I can’t remember how I came about the dog, but I won’t ever forget how touched I was by Couch Monihan’s joy.