On any given day, in my backyard
you’ll find three or four basketballs,
a couple of soccer balls and in the
bottom of the closet you’ll find many
tennis, lacrosse, and baseballs too.
I know he hates it when I begin the
stories with- “when I was young, I…”
but I had only one ball for each sport.
It was expected that you’d take care
of your things, to put them away and
make sure you didn’t lose them because
you knew you wouldn’t get another one.
And that’s why, years later, on a visit
to my grandmother’s assisted living home
I watched as she limped and braced herself
as she opened the bottom dresser drawer.
Without saying a word she handed me
my old baseball, the only baseball I ever had.
She kept it safe for me, hid it when they had
the yard sales and the 40 yard dumpsters.
She put it away and presented it to me when
I came to visit with my three year old son.
Now it sits on my shelf, in a special case made
for an autographed World Series home run ball.