Baseball Blues


I can’t believe that baseball season is almost over. Between our two boys we have attended almost thirty games till now and more are to follow. Every baseball season starts with a big bang – welcome emails from coaches and leagues with attachments of rules, game schedules and practices flood my inbox. With the mere sight of these emails I start hyper-ventilating, it seems almost impossible to juggle work, kitchen and other household duties and school events with baseball practices and games. My calendar goes haywire with constant reminders of upcoming ballgames and things yet to be done.  I, snapping orders , issuing warnings and threats and taking extreme measures to leave the house on-time, remind everyone of Hitler personified. 

How much ever I gripe, I don’t like to miss any of the games though. Warm summer nights free of allergens, a light breeze, I ensconced in a lounge chair with a cold drink in my hand, my older son in his catcher’s gear or younger one trying to hit a home run – how else I could define sheer bliss?  As the season nears an end, a feeling of emptiness washes over me. Gone is the flurry of activity and feeling of anticipation. Another season is over, and with it another year that I share with my kids before they leave the house for college is slipped away. With every passing year, the sentiment of desolation is getting weightier, but this year it has been agonizing. Is it because in recent months I have witnessed unexpected, unjust and untimely deaths? The need to live the life to the fullest and to appreciate it and to work for it, is coaxing me to abandon trivial and mundane tasks.   I am learning to take a step back, relax and savor the joys of my family. 
 

  

 

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