It’s afternoon in the middle of winter. The air is crisp and dry and the wind is blowing, creating a chill impossible to escape, but the sun is out. From inside, the day looks beautiful but outside it feels frozen.
She bundled up in her warmest winter coat and slid on a knitted beanie with homemade crocheted gloves. With her head down she walked to the field.
It was silent with the masses out on holiday. The grass was freshly cut in preparation for the upcoming season. A bit of chalk lining remained from the previous week’s warmup game.
She walked to the outfield and smelled the crisp fresh air. It had been a decade since the incident, but being on the field took her straight back to 18. Moving on is easy when a person moves far away, but when returning to the scene – moving on is an unattainable goal.
The sounds of a small crowd full of family members, bats hitting fastballs, and gloves snagging grounders echoed in her ears. The sounds were close, yet far away. Each noise came and quickly faded into the winter wind.
Thank you for reading and please check out my current books:
Tree Leaves in Wolf’s Maw: Poetry, philosophy, photography
Static: Prelude to Evolution: Mental illness and recovery