At a Little League complex in another town, I back the car into a spot unsure if this is even the right place. We’re early. I don’t know why. But we are. Maybe it’s because I was too eager to get Henry here, to watch him play baseball in the September twilight. I wonder this exact thing as my kid opens the back door and spots a friend from his team. Thi…
© 2023 Serge Bielanko
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