Dear Big A: A Letter From Your Adoring Mother

Dear Big A,

As you're gearing up for your big game tonight, there are a lot of things I'd like to tell you, but I don't think that I can say them without losing myself in a sea of tears, so I'm writing them instead.

I want to tell you to swing for the fence, each time, unless you are supposed to sacrifice for the good of your team.

I want to tell you that if you strike out, make eye contact with the pitcher, nod your head, and run back to the dugout.

I want to tell you that if you see a ball coming at you and you think, "No way", dive anyways. Sometimes you might miss it, but sometimes, you won't. It won't be the missed catches that haunt you, Big A, it will be the ones that you wonder about--wonder what would have happened if you'd tried.

If you're going to slide, kiddo, slide with gusto. No half slides, no "Should I or shouldn't I"? Run as hard and as fast as you can and plan on sliding with everything that is bundled inside of you.

If, at the end of the game, things go as you hope and pray and you and your teammates see the last out called and can raise up a banner that reads: "State Finals Bound", don't forget about the girls on the other team that are going home that night without that banner. Look each of them in the eye as you shake their hands.

Just go for it, Big A. Go for it all, with everything that you have within you. You have no idea what this moment is, how could you? You are, after all, still a child. I am telling you, as an adult, as an adult that stands inside your room at night and stares upon your sleeping face, unable to figure out where the tears are coming from and where this thing called life is going so fast, that even I am unable to comprehend things until the moment has passed, even after all of these years. Or maybe it is that I can comprehend too much; I don't know anymore.

When I picked up your uniform this morning before I left, I held it to my chest, like I held you once, and I wished things for you, things that I probably didn't need to wish; you don't need magic when you are magic, but you don't know that yet.

When it's all said and done, no matter how the dust settles, I will still be amazingly proud of you and what you've accomplished.

Now, go get them, kiddo.

The world awaits.

All my love,
Your Adoring Mother