Just Like You Taught Me

Just Like You Taught Me

The bat in my hands drifts lower and lower
“Hands high” you say, “keep your eyes on the ball.”
White, three holes, perfectly round.

Eyes closed, I swing and feel nothing.
“Don’t blink” you laugh, “you have to stay focused”
Eyes open, eyes open, eyes open.

The ball flies over the pitcher’s head and out of the infield today.
“A single” you say “and it was only your first game”
I want to hit it further.

The outfield grass can barely contain it, but the ball bounces off the fence.
“You’ve gotten so strong” you say, “I remember when…”
Almost, just a little bit further.

The baseball flies over the mound, the green outfield, the silver fence.
“That was amazing” you say “I’m so proud of you”
I did it. Thank you mom.

Your grandson struggles to keep the bat up.
“Hands high” I say “keep your eyes on the ball”
And your words become mine.