Over the past week, I've taken calls from my parents in Midland and San Angelo with regards to items of mine in their storage spaces. The Midlanders are discontinuing their storage unit and moving things to the house. The San Angeloans are having a garage sale next week. I just find the items in question really funny.
In Midland is a crib, a changing table, and a high chair -- all of which I used as a baby and, let's be honest, figured I would have used for my own children by now. But that hasn't happened, and I haven't the heart to sell them. I've convinced the Angeloans to take them. Thank goodness! If they hadn't, I'd have to find a place for them here, and that could be problematic given that our landlord has taken to PADLOCKING the garage and, not that I expect to have anyone in my bedroom, but I suspect that seeing a crib and changing table might prove to be a little scary.
In San Angelo, it is the comforter set my grandparents bought me when I turned 1, my softball bat, a shower caddy, and the dry-erase board that hung on my dorm-room door. (RIP, Gaston Hall.) The dry-erase board still reads, "DAYS UNTIL AMANDA GRADUATES: 0" and includes an invitation to the other girls on my floor to come over and watch C.S.I. The episode, in case you're wondering, was "Chasing the Bus." The shower caddy I could care less about. The comforter is non-negotiable, as it's another one of those things I've always envisioned passing down to my own daughter. The bat I'm willing to sell, but not without a moment of hesitation. We bought that bat a week or so after one of those games that I will never forget...
My team had a double-header that day in the city tournament. I went 0-for-whatever in the first game, so frustrated that I was in tears. A coach from another team came and sat with me, calmed me down, and encouraged me. The second game, I went on a hitting street. I remember the rush of confidence that came over me as I sprinted to first base, just as I remember turning to the stands once I got there to see that coach sitting there with his thumbs up.
Memories or not, I haven't played softball in years. I suspect that somewhere in those boxes, they'll find the glove I inherited from my stepdad, along with my batting glove. The bat is going for $0.25. A bargain at twice the price, I must say.
