Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
After dinner the small boy stood at the far side of the lawn with his back to the street. He focused on a point in front of him, waiting for the ball to come his way. He opened his mitt, he accepted what arrived, he tossed it back with full effort.
Cars slowed down as they moved past the house, predicting a runaway baseball could enter the street at any minute. He leaned left for a catch, immediately turned right for another. He seemed a dynamo from a distance, but on the approach it became clear: he had no batter, no pitcher, no partner for playing catch, and no baseball at all. A boy and a mitt alone in the lawn, living out a highlight reel with great seriousness.
His grand catch arrived. He stepped forward, back, staring up in the air. He briefly used the mitt to shield his eyes–though the sun had begun to set far to one side–and dove into the grass. He made the catch! He jumped up to celebrate with the teammates around him, sharing unmet high-fives, receiving embraces and claps on the back. He beamed and grinned in the center of the crowd–the Team Hero was as overjoyed as they were invisible. And undefeated.