My slice of life

"Hey, hey, #5!  Hit it hard."

Aluminum bleachers feel cool as I sit watching my eight-year-old granddaughter as she walks up to the plate, holding tight to her bat, with her blond braid hanging out from under her helmet.  She steps to the plate, lanky legs bent a little, wiggling her behind, (I wonder where she saw that?) and the coach pitches the ball.  She stands there, looking at the ball as it passes her by.   Four more chances -- is she going to swing?  Another pitch goes by, hitting the dirt.   I yell again, "Hey, #5. You can do it!"

On the next pitch, she swings and hits the ball hard past the pitcher and toward short.  I stand and scream as she takes off for first base. "Run, Addi!" Those long legs churn toward first base, getting her there before the throw -- she's safe!