So, last semester was pretty crazy, with class and work and all. My son was on his last semester of college and about 2 weeks before he graduated, a company found him through his college employment database, called him, interviewed him, and hired him. Sometimes, crazy doesn’t describe it enough.
One minute you have plans for spending snowy Sundays baking cookies and stewing up some soup with your graduated child who will eventually find a job some day, far away, and the next minute he is gainfully employed and moving 3 hours away. I’m not sure I have totally reconciled with that just yet.
Then, there is also the fact that he will not be around to play on the baseball team that I have somehow managed the past two years. My father, my husband, my son, they all tell me to give it up. There is no need to manage this team anymore. There is nothing left for me. But there is. There are 25 young men who want to play baseball for Lemont, and there is nobody who obviously wants to take the reins. Every so often the conversation comes up. It’s time to hang up my hat. It’s time to move on.
So, we went to the league meeting today. My husband reaffirms with me that this is it. We are done. But, we soon discover that today is the day we are voting for this year’s new league officers. The current president suddenly announces he no longer can be president. So they nominate the current treasurer to be president and he agrees. And then they turn to the vice president. The manager for Spring Mills turns to the group and decides to nominate a person who seems to have control over the technology and communication, someone who cares about the league. He nominates me.
I stumble. I’m busy. I have a lot on my plate at work. But in the back of my head, I’m thinking that if I become an officer, those who think I should step away from baseball can’t take this away from me. No. Not at all. I look to my husband. He says, “It’s up to you.” I take a deep breath. I hesitate–but not for long. “Sure. I’ll do it. No problem at all.
I smile from a place deep within. (I’m still smiling now. I’ll still be smiling tomorrow…) Another year of baseball. It’s time to dig in.