I love baseball. My kids loved basketball. My grandkids love soccer. Last year I bought a few of the older grandkids baseball gloves and baseballs so I could teach them the fundamentals of pitch and catch.

I bought a glove, too. And extra baseballs. Kids be kids. The last baseball glove I bought was in high school.

We played pitch and catch in a small park across the street. At that time I could not stand up straight and had difficulty lifting my arms over my head to catch a wayward throw.

Kids are good at wayward throws.

That was the first and last time we played pitch and catch together. I still have my glove and two extra baseballs.

Kids be kids.

After that one venture with the kids in the park my body’s muscles began a rapid deterioration and decline. I could no longer pitch or catch.

The glove and baseballs sit in my office waiting for someone. That’s what sports equipment does most of the time anyway.

They wait.

Maybe we can play baseball after the resurrection.

I can’t find the bat. It’s still waiting, too.