So I’ll begin this with an: oops. I briefly looked at the picture, imagined a ball field because, I love me baseball. Go Nationals! There, that’s done. Thus, this is a baseball story and not a basketball story as I now see the goals and hoops…again…oops. Oh, well. Go Nationals!
Ha, with all of that, I almost forgot to mention that “Into Every Life” was written for Friday Fictioneers. Click on the link if you’d like to read the rules and join in. And, as always, thank you so much to Rochelle!
Into Every Life
You start in little league. Play in high school. College. The minors.
No one tells you getting into the majors is serendipity.
Your fastball comes in at 107 mph, edge of the plate. You’re called up in September. The team’s ace pulled a muscle, not severely, just enough for a few days’ rest.
Then the rains come. From the dugout, it looks like a monsoon. That says nothing about the tornado inside you.
The manager pats you on the back. “Sad break, kid.”
With one serendipitous rainstorm, your major league career’s over.
How fortunate tears and rain meld.