A Promise to Myself

I sit back on a hard wooden seat, one that is not too comfortable but comforting all at once if that makes any sense. I take a deep breath, sip my drink and sense everything around me. Surrounded by hundreds of people I hear endless laughter, smiles from ear to ear and can see memories being made. The city of Boston is home to Fenway Park, a place I hadn’t been to in eleven years.

As a kid I watched baseball with my dad frequently. If they were really sucking that day he would yell at the television like the players could hear him. In a strange way I loved when he did that because even at nine years old I could see how silly it was for a middle-aged man to be talking to something that couldn’t talk back.

Over the years I grew up and life happened. As a teen I was caught up with boys and parties, I didn’t want to sit at home watching a game with my dad who I knew was going to yell at plastic flat screen. Then I went to college got a full-time job and haven’t really had the time since.

It wasn’t until I went back to the field when an indescribable sensation rushed through my head then shortly sadness came over me. I don’t have many moments like this anymore, I thought to myself “when was the last time besides right now where I don’t have to think about work, bills, school, blahh blahh the list goes on. When I was watching our team hit their first home run of the night I could hear my dad in my head, cheering at the television screen. I was all of a sudden nine again giggling my butt off because I thought it was the most ridiculous thing. And in that instance I caught myself smiling in a daze and made a promise to myself. That promise is to make more of those moments wherever and whenever I can, not just at the field but when the opportunity presents itself. And I also promise myself to not wait so long to go back because it’s not something you just do once. And even though the game got rained out I really didn’t care; to feel the experience again was enough for me.

It shifted my world and I can say I have a different perspective. Yes, working is important but I don’t believe for one second we were put here to work then die. My life is a huge, precious, eventful gift all wrapped up in a big purple bow. Like opening a present, once its unwrapped and the ripped up paper is lying beside you, you know you can’t go back. My advice is slow down, look around and take your time opening your gift because once it’s opened there is no do over.


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