Softball is many things. Today, softball is butterflies.

Before games, I’d get butterflies in my stomach. Sometimes they were nerves. Sometimes, excitement. Sometimes both.

I’d walk onto the field, looking at the place I’d call home, and immediately they would begin to  flutter their wings in the pit of my belly. I always liked to imagine that they made my stomach look like summer.

There was no need for them to be there. I had played hundreds of games. I think that they were reminding me how much I cared. When they saw the field, they got excited, and they needed to fly.

It takes something truly special to get those butterflies flying.

This weekend, they went nuts.

They flew the minute I heard his voice.

They flew when he greeted me with a smile at the door, and when his mom showed me his baby pictures, a loving smile painted on her face as she looked at me saying, “Isn’t he wonderful?”

They flew when he met my sisters for the first time, and when my dog laid his head on his chest in the sunlight of the morning.

They flew when he shared with me his goals, and when he looked at me like he knew everything about me, and understood it.

They flew like they were in the sun, without a care in the world. They flew because they were as excited about him as I was.

Softball is many things. Today, softball is butterflies.

 

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