Home Run
A friend of mine was telling me about her grown son's very last college baseball game. After injuries, setbacks and comebacks, transfers, and a million hours of practice, he tipped his hat and went down swinging. His final season was full of frustration and disappointment and ended far from the pages of a storybook.
He walked off the field and buried his face in his Dad's arms. The secret words spoken between them were something along the lines of how hard he worked to make his Dad proud. I imagine his Dad whispered back that he had never been more so.
He hugged his brother and then his Mom.
And to her, he said,
"Thanks, Mom. Thanks for calling all my foul balls home runs."
I texted her later that I couldn't stop thinking about it.
It's the best motherhood quote ever.
I have seen her. And heard her giggle in the countless game videos she takes. I see her and I see in her all of us.
Because gosh darnit. That kid of hers. This kid of mine. This kid of yours.
He just walked right up there with everyone watching and hit a tiny white ball with a wooden stick and it went really, really far. So what that it was just a few inches outside of those lines. Who made up those lines anyway? Who made up these "rules" that it doesn't even count?
Foul ball. I don't think so.
Looks like a home run to me.
Someone once said that every kid needs at least one adult that is "irrationally crazy about them." That got me through the middle school years with my kids.
But I think about it a lot now, too, even as I'm the parent to all adults.
I think about it for myself as I head into my next chapter of figuring out who in the world I am again.
The kids still need it. I still need it.
That parent. That sibling. That friend.
The one that calls all our foul balls home runs.
It takes all the bravery to even swing at it.
Close enough.
Home Run.
Drinks on me.
Because, in the end, who the heck cares about the arbitrary boundary lines that define a foul ball from a home run. What even is "success?"
It's the process. It's the courage. It's the discouragement. And the persistence. It's the hard work. And the unfairness. The resolve. The commitment. The showing up. The finishing. The winning. The losing. And it's the arms you fall into in the parking lot.
Home-run.