5.17.11 wane - a drabble of 100 words

I didn’t notice when it happened. I never notice.

When I get there, the sun is shining. Everyone is happy. It might be a little hot. I might be a little sweaty because we had to walk a mile from the parking garage. The vendors in their yellow shirts are hawking their wares but I’m riveted on the white uniforms in front of me.

Then suddenly, I realize the sun has set and the lights are illuminating the field. They shine bright against the night sky. The breeze is summer evening cool and it’s almost time to sing Sweet Caroline.

5.16.11 fen - a drabble of 100 words

The scent of hot dogs and sausages wafts through the air. There are people everywhere. You stand in line, order your food. It’s ridiculously expensive but you don’t care. The strains of the National Anthem breeze past your ear. You make your way around the crowded concourse, looking for a sign to point you toward your seat. There! You fumble your ticket out of your pocket, just barely avoiding spilling ice cream all over. Up a gently sloping ramp. Then, you see it.

The green grass. The baseball diamond. And, just like always, your heart does a little happy dance.

5.6.11 twilight - a drabble of 100 words

It’s the moment when you realize that the sun has set and the lights have come on. It’s the crack of the bat, the arc of the ball, the way you rise to your feet without even realizing it, waiting to see where the ball lands. It’s the way you sink back into your seat when the opposing center fielder leaps and catches the ball, robbing your batter of his hit. It’s the way your arms automatically fly up in the air and the shout of jubilation rips from your throat when the ball lands in the stands.

It’s baseball.