Dear Softball,

I haven’t seen you in a while, but, of course, that is your fault. June 31st was the last time I could walk, run, or jump without pain. You pushed me down yet again into a spiral of hurt, but don’t worry, I will get up. I miss the feel of your leather cover under my palm as the red lace seams scrape off my fingers. I miss the weightless feeling of a hit right in the sweet spot. I even miss the painful ringing of my hands when I would take one off the end of the bat. I miss the dirt and dust in my hair and the crazy tanline only my uniform can give. I remember when we first met over a decade ago; I didn’t know then what road you would take me down, but I knew it would be a long ride.

Taking a calming deep breath, I block out the incessant noise from my cheering teammates. I hold out my hand, covered in my ripped, dirty batting gloves, and watch my knuckles as I turn the bat. My tight blue pants feel suffocating. I glance at the mound. The pitcher has a grim look on her face, as she knows this is the rally we need to win this game. Pieces of her pony tail have come loose and now stick to the sweat dripping off her forehead, she looks exhausted! I step into the batters box, ready to finish this battle.

At the time I didn’t know how important this next pitch would be. In my head, it was between the win or loss of the game, but in reality it was much more than that. Two minutes later I would be on the ground, tears streaming out of my eyes, with a horrible pain in my knee. So I swapped my flight to Colorado the next morning for an appointment with my orthopedic doctor and was told the two words no athlete ever wants to hear: torn ACL.

Since then I have only had time to stare at you from afar. Your red-clay infield, with perfectly chalked white lines and a lush green outfield, with perfectly measured 200 foot fences is now the background picture of my thoughts. Memories from my Freshman year, when you broke my collarbone, stick out in my head as I struggle to regain strength from my surgery. This is now the second major injury you have caused me. But I will not quit you nonetheless.

Instead of seeing your beauty often, I now see the rows of treadmills next to weight lifting machines and therapy beds. Instead of breathing in the fresh air that is a softball diamond, I now inhale sterile workout air. Instead of loving every second of my exhaustion, I now have to force myself to get through it, but I do it for you.

I am working hard to come back to you! Everyday, every minute, every second I am working to return to you. And soon enough, I will be back.

With love,

Paige #9