Tucker comes to me with a ball and glove. “Mommy, let’s just try this one more time.”
“Tuck, I cannot catch.”A baseball player pitching (focus on the ball)
“But maybe you just need more practice. I think I could coach you.”
I’m quite certain he could. But my eyes will still get confused, I won’t be able to see the ball coming, and it won’t end well. That’s how it goes.
I, for one, feel like this family has had enough baseball-to-the-teeth situations.
“I’m so sorry to tell you this, Tuck, but I will never, ever, ever be able to catch, no matter how hard I try.”
He can’t comprehend such a conclusion, how anyone could just accept this as truth without committing to counseling at least.
He pats me on the back, rubbing small circles between my shoulder blades. “Mommy, that’s a very horrible thing to say about yourself.”
As if I’ve just said that nobody loves me and I will die alone.
This originally posted here and is shared with the author's permission.
Tricia is a remarried widow, a writer, teacher, reader, and thinker, and the author of three books. Thousands of readers join her each morning for a cup of coffee as they sign online to read today's funny, poignant stories that capture the fleeting moments of life.
Each of her posts here were first shared on her personal blog and are shared here with her permission.
More of Tricia Williford: http://tricialottwilliford.com/