More little snippets for your Sunday…
My kids have always loved hiking in the mountains, in the woods. I remember when they were little, Becca was fascinated by ferns. Whenever we passed a glade of ferns, she would stop us so that she could pet them. I couldn’t imagine anything cuter than a little three-year-old stopping her whole family in mid-hike to toddle over and gently, tenderly pet the green ferns in the dappled shade of the mountain forest.
I have been fortunate through my life. For, yea, I am a klutz. Despite that fact, serious injury has not befallen me.
I don’t recall how old I would have been, but I was probably in the 8- to 11-year-old range, when one day I was over at the house of a friend who lived just around the corner from me. And we decided to play baseball. And, we had fun (especially because her yard was bigger than ours, though home runs would be hit into the forest instead of over a fence). But it was often hard to retrieve balls, so we’d try to keep them on their lawn instead of ruining the fun by losing the ball.
So, I remember her pitching to me. I remember getting a great hit, and excitedly thinking I had a sure home run. And I started to run. I touched first base, which was probably somebody’s jacket. I ran and kept running as I circled second base, which may have been a patch of sand in the lawn.
Then, as I kept running, something felt wrong.
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