James listened and waited for his Mother’s footsteps to get further and further down the hallway. He lay perfectly still until he heard her bedroom door shut and her TV go on. He first shot one eye open, making sure he was in the clear. Then opening the other, he silently pushed back his covers and got up to lock his own door. His heart was racing for fear of being interrupted, but a calm came over him when he looked straight ahead and saw the beautiful wooden object that his heart desired so much in that moment. As he crossed the floor to retrieve it, the room seemed massive. Every creak in the floorboards he made seemed to be able to wake the dead, and his feet seemed to thump the ground louder than they ever had before.
When James’s hands grasped the baseball bat, his bedroom was no longer just a bed, dresser, lamp, and window. The pillow at the head of his bead, usually used for sleeping, was the home plate of a baseball game that could change young James’s life. Outside of the window, the lights of the outside world in the distance became the spotlight on him, the batter. The coatrack in the opposite corner became the ruthless pitcher with a wicked poker face. Standing and ready to swing, James could feel the sweat developing on his brow, and beginning to travel down his neck. He closed his eyes, and the game began.
With his heartbeat pounding outside of his chest, James lifted the bat as the pitcher prepared to throw a curve ball his way. The ball was released, and James’s arms automatically began moving into position. He swung, lost in the moment. In his head, it was the most beautiful homerun that anyone had ever hoped to see. The crowd in the distance went wild, as he jogged the bases reveling in glory. However, upon returning to reality, James was met by a broken bedpost, and a very angry mother.
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