“Here, hold the gate so the mama won’t get out.” Netty throws the words behind and I pick them up as I go, holding onto the metal gate that keeps the goats and the sheep inside their yard. If I didn’t know any better I’d say we’ve done this before the two of us, feeding the animals and chatting about life.
It’s after dinner. Tony rides his bike and Sasha his scooter. We venture down the hill chatting and Sasha rattling as he rolls over bumps on the sidewalk. Most times both boys talk at once and they are so excited I don’t have the heart to stop either of them so I do my best to sharpen my journalistic ear and pay equal attention to both. Sasha has recently started to throw a few decibels more into the conversations since he figured out that the competition is strong. Take that into account of course.
The sky is spitting tiny rain drops on us as we parade the street towards the field where the baseball closing day ceremonies will take place shortly. A kid is screaming, he hates rain. Others jump in puddles as they walk by and the bystanders cheer as the little kiddies make their way to the field. Rain subsides by the time we’re singing “Take me out to the ball game” for the last time this season. Afterwards we walk to the small diamond off the playground for the last game of blastball. What’s blastball you ask?