Riley had his first baseball game of the season today, round about the time I was on a plane to Cincinnati. At some point during the season I’ll have a moment when I’ll wish there were fewer games, or at least not in the morning, or some such useless thought that offends the gods of summer as well it should. Today I simply ached inside as he recounted on the phone about his very first double, hit over the head of the second baseman.
Riley’s not the smallest on the team this year, but only because it’s a three-way tie. Some of his teammates can catch a decent line drive and make a throw from third to first. Riley can get it about halfway from second to first, his little hands working to grasp a too-big ball. And a power hit for him reaches the pitcher (the coach) before bouncing. I feared a summer of outs at first for a lefty hitter who consistently puts it between first and second.
But what he lacks in strength he makes up for with a laser eye paired to great timing. That kid can hit. Every time.
So to hear that he launched one, well, I did a little dance in the Cincinnati airport, and fully felt the joy of the Proud Dad. Seeing him reach first safely is a triumph. Missing him crack a double. Well, just give me a moment and I’ll be fine…sure I will. I’m amazed every day to see what he can do, speechless at what he knows, and scared to death at how smart he is.
And he still holds my hand everywhere we go.
I look at Kylen and see this independent little guy, limp-fishing my hand if forced to hold it to cross a parking lot. With Ky I steal my moments, like when I plunk down to watch some Bugs Bunny with the boys and he hops on the couch and lays across my lap and lets me rub his back. He doesn’t give many of those, too filled with the joy of his task at hand.
Maybe it’s the second kid syndrome…I just feel like he’ll make his way. He’s comfortable with himself. He doesn’t try to gather eyeballs to his every move like some kids. He’s stubborn as hell, and ready to drive himself, dammit, if I won’t take him. He, too, is a remarkable child.
I wonder at times how to foster “it” in each of them…to help them find their passion and joy. I watch out the corner of my eye as I explore something with them that interests me. I called Riley upstairs to help me solder wires for my car stereo. I showed him the soldering gun and let him hold the solder to help. As it melted I gave him a “huh? HUH? Cool, right?!” and watched his fleeting little spark of interest. Check it off the list and move on.
I can’t find it for either of them, I know. So I just throw a bunch of stuff at the wall to see if anything sticks. But that’s ok too.
It’s only at 35,000 feet that I manage to process all of it. What a gift those kids are. They shine a light on not just what’s important in life, but what’s important to me. I don’t do this naturally. I’m not an avid anything in truth. I’m pretty fascinated by everything I suppose. And maybe that’s good enough.
Hell, it will have to be, won’t it?
