Today I went to visit my girls, my baseball girls. The ones I haven’t seen in far too long and my goodness I’ve missed them.

Somehow though, today it all felt different.

For the first time in a really long time, I wasn’t looking out at the field with the ache of not knowing when I would be back out there again. I wasn’t sitting on the sidelines like a zombie, not allowing myself to feel the love for the game. 

For the first time in a really long time, the ache was to be back out there again. It was feelings and emotions and an overwhelming love for the game and it was coming back stronger than ever.

For the first time in a really long time, I was allowing myself to feel again. I allowed myself to want it again. The glove, the ball, the bat; all of it.

Finally, I was able to let myself dream again. I was able to feel those emotions that go along with that perfect green grass and that rough brown dirt. The feelings that go with those dirty white pants and that perfectly fitted glove. Finally, I was wanting it again. Not just missing it, but really wanting it.

And sure, realistically it’s going to take a little longer than I expected before I’ll be out there with a ball in my glove ready to play again, but for now, the desire to play is more than enough to keep me going. That tiny glimmer of hope is enough for a lifetime.

Why else would my Lorna Jane clothes be set out on my bed, all ready for Yoga tomorrow?

Baby steps.

They always said that slow and steady wins the race. So here I am, going slow and steady making my way back into the race.

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