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“Milk for me.”
“Glasses?” she asks.
“Next to the fridge.” I point at the cabinet and get back to work chopping vegetables.
“Is Willow coming?”
“No. She’s already gone. She had to get to the office. Tonight is her late night.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s a social worker. Some of the things she sees, I don’t know how she does it.”
“She’s making a difference in a lot of lives.”
“She is,” she agrees.
“What time do you have to be at the stadium today?”
“Two. You?”
“Same.”
“Yeah, we need to be there to tape up the players, assist with stretches, assess injuries, those kinds of things.”
“You love it, don’t you?”
“I enjoy it. I’m still new, so I’m still getting into the swing of things, so to speak. It’s not playing, but it’s being a part of the game I love.”
“Is that because of your dad? Your love of baseball?”
“Maybe.” She laughs. “I can’t really be sure. My first season of T-ball was the year he met my mom. Apparently, when I met his teammates, I claimed them as my uncles and roped them all into playing catch if they were around.”
“Ah, Uncle Drew.”
“Yeah.” She smiles. “Uncle Drew. He and my dad are best friends, and he was victim to my request to play catch more times than I can count.” She takes a sip of her orange juice. “Anyway, I don’t know if that’s why I loved the game that much, or if it was my dad and his friends and their willingness to play ball with me that made me fall in love with the game. All I know is that I’ve always loved it.”
“I’d love to see pictures of little Paisley all decked out for a game.”
“Oh, don’t worry. My parents have plenty of embarrassing pictures of me. I think my mom kept all of my old uniforms from the time I started when I was four.”
“Really? My mom did the same thing. She said I would appreciate seeing them when I made the big leagues. It was all just a pipe dream at that time.”
“Look at you now.”
I nod. “Look at me now.”
“I remember when I first met my dad, I rambled on about wanting a pink glove. My mom looked everywhere, and she couldn’t find one locally. She was a single mom, busting her ass to make ends meet. Anyway, Dad, he found me a pink glove. I loved that thing. I still have it. It’s in a keepsake box in my closet.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“What?” she asks, surprised. “It’s just an old tiny pink glove.”
“Yeah, but it’s important to you.”
Before she can reply, her phone rings, I stay busy with making breakfast as she answers. “Hey, Dad,” she greets. “The games were good. The Blaze pulled off back-to-back wins.” She’s quiet for a few minutes. “Oh, no, I’ve already eaten. I think I’m just going to get caught up on laundry before heading to the field.” She listens again. “Great. I’ll see you all later then.” Another pause. “Love you too, Dad.”
“Everything okay?”
