There’s no crying in baseball!

Even when you get clocked in the eye by a baseball?  Sure, no crying. 

She held her own, Dena.  I’m proud of her.  She barely cried and went straight back to the game in the backyard.  Hope it doesn’t get too bad…

That’s what Elizabeth’s father said to me when I went to pick Elle up tonight from her sleepover at their house.  Elizabeth’s grandfather bragged about her, telling me I needed to get her to play on a ball team.  I mean, if she isn’t able to catch a ball with her hands, there’s always her face.

Mommy, did I break my face?

Sure, it’s barely visible in this picture but then again, the smack heard ’round the neighborhood is only a few hours old but it’s gonna look awesome tomorrow!


About Dena

I'm a suburban Clevelander by way of Oklahoma City, by way of North Florida, by way of Southern Maryland, by way of Upper Michigan, by way of Northern Italy, by way of Lower Michigan, by way of Texas. Because of living in so many places, I have something in common with almost everyone I meet. I love reading, writing, and American history (especially reading or writing about American history). I'm interested in culture of place, historical trauma, and writing about the kinds of histories most people don't know about.
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