The other night, B came over for a visit. We decided to hop in my car and see where the night took us. (we rarely spend time at home since the only quiet places are the bedroom and the office. Well, and the bathroom but who wants to hang out in there?) We stopped for dinner and then got on the freeway.
B mentioned casually that he really wanted to go to the batting cages sometime but that he didn’t know where they were.
It just so happened, that I got lost one day and found them. So I showed him where they are. (It’s a really cool spot, cages, food, beer…) And we decided to hit a few. Or, I should say, he hit many, and I swung a lot. Mostly, though, I just watched.
I don’t think I have ever seen him ooze that much joy. His face? Was lit up. He looked 10 years younger in that batting helmet. (Not that he looks old by any means) It had just been too long since he indulged in a good batting session.
We’ll be going there again. I would gladly learn to actually hit the balls, and I want to encourage him to do the things he loves. I’ve been trying to get him back on his skateboard but he says he’s too old. I say, at 34, there’s no such thing. That’s what pads are for. I’m even willing to go to the skate park with him. I can skate there too. And yes, B, I will wear bootie shorts and fishnets. It’s good practice for me to get off the rink and play on the ramps. It’s something we can do together. And it’s good for his soul to do the things he loves.
I think it’ll stop making him feel so old…