What with World War III revving up on the Israeli-Lebanese border, I have decided to give up on all the things I have not accomplished in this too short life and to accept the glow of this world for what it is; one beautiful, music-filled, dizzy flash of time, about one second long. The fact that I never got a passport or wrote a satisfactory short story or learned an instrument balances perfectly with the deep and satisfying secret knowledge of the arc of a Wiffle Ball sailing over the road in front of my parents house, falling deep into the opposite ditch while I circled the makeshift bases, from the hubcap to the pecan tree to the dog-chewed frisbee to the bare patch of yard that was home plate.
If it ends soon, well, I guess I can't complain. I was a feared slugger in my day.
