A Word About Miraculous Beauty

My first struggle was to come up with a title for the book. I started with Scarred, Scars, Rifts, Life's Struggles, Hope, etc. When I thought of Miraculous Beauty, my first reaction was that it could come across in a less than respectable way. But, then again, any title introduced to a corrupted mind would have that affect.

Then I began seeing the point of it and how, above anything else, it pointed to the reality of the story, that the characters each had their own beauty and, as you'll read, each one that surfaces is just as much a miracle. The only difference is that some miracles are more apparent than others, larger than others.

Talking with my wife, she had just mentioned to me that I'd been working on this story for the last two years, which is true. Something that started out as nothing more than a writing exercise to flush out characters for a bigger vision I have, Miraculous Beauty took on a life of its own with characters that are both typical and unusual to someone you might see in every day life.

The most difficult to understand or accept, I believe, are those who have a near perfect persona. This happens, I believe, because we exist in a cynical world, one that when beauty is seen beneath the surface -- perhaps I could call it a beauty of goodness and love -- but when we come across this kind of perfection, I notice that our first reaction is to doubt the truth of it and seek what's wrong as opposed to what's right.

On the surface, we seem ready to trust the beauty we see with our eyes, even if it's one that's brought about due to societal factors and media perceptions. Still, we have no problem accepting superficial beauty.

So, at least for me, it brings the question, why do we appear so ready to accept what exists on the surface as opposed to what exists within?

After all, couldn't a woman with a beautiful face, well shaped body, couldn't she turn out to be just as horrible as not? Couldn't a man, handsome face and strong athletic build, couldn't he turn out to be just as good as not?

The uncertainties within are no different than those without -- in fact, it might be argued that the 'cover of a book' can mislead more than what's within. At least, that's how the saying goes. So, what makes us so sure of our eyes over our ability to see what's within a person?

Miraculous Beauty forces us to ask those questions and to seek beauty within as much as without. In some cases, we'll find characters fooled. In other cases, we find that characters end up fooling themselves. Still others, we find characters who, though they trust, mistake their own issues of trust. How is all this resolved?

Well, that question can't be answered without reading all three books.

MB1 #6 - Mother And Son

The relationship between a mother and son is a unique love. A mother protects her son from the world. She makes sure he is happy and healthy. Teaches him how to care for others, to love, by her actions. As her son grows, he begins to find the conflict between the love shown him by his mother and the bigger world he eventually has to enter. He begins to see the world in the way a boy does, in order to fit in with the other boys around him. From here, the fight and confusion begins. His mother understands since she's taught him from the time he was a baby. And as he grows and changes, she continues to teach him and remind him, always understanding, always waiting for him to see.

       Aaron spent the rest of the afternoon recounting his time with Matt and how well he threw, as well as how Shalene was there for him. “Mom, I've never known it, but Shalene helped me to see what it was about pitching that made me so afraid after I lost it.”

       His mom's interest peaked. She saw the spark in her son's eye that she hadn't seen in such a long time.          With a sly grin, she asked, “You finally figured that one out, huh?”

       He sat studying his mom who's expression displayed her understanding.

       Aaron's mom added, “I've known for quite some time your issue and how it's linked to your dad.”

       “Really?”

       “Yep. I just could never get you to see it.”

       Aaron thought back to discussions with his mom but couldn't think of a time when she had mentioned him as the reason for his difficulties getting back into baseball. “When did you bring dad up?”

       “When? Every time. You'd act like I hadn't said anything, so I let it go.”

       “I don't remember.”

       “When you started talking about the teams calling and asking for you to come back, do you remember what I said to you?”

       Thinking, Aaron shook his head.

       His mom asked, “Do you remember I told you how proud your dad was of you?”

       “Yeah. No matter what I did, he was proud.” Aaron responded.

       “That's what you heard, Aaron.” Before continuing, Melinda shook her head slowly and added reflectively, “You are your father's son, no question about it.” She then smiled and continued, a peace coming over her, “Aaron I told you how proud your dad was of you and how much baseball was a part of you both.”

       Aaron thought, as if in a daze. He knew she wouldn't lie to him, and part of him seemed to recall the words, just not in the way he heard them at that moment. After the talk with Shalene in the car, Aaron now saw how his mom had been trying to help him see what he couldn't. Helpless, he looked at his mom. “How did I miss that for so many years?”

       “Because you weren't ready for it. Now, you're ready and Shalene seems to be a part of that.”

FINAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The best compliment of a woman just might be that she could help a man see something his mom had seen all along.

MB1 #5 - Best Friends

Best friends care, no matter the time, space or circumstance. There's an understanding between them that never goes away. Maybe there are struggles that happen, but a friend will be there to understand, as long as you let them. This is especially true with romantic relationships. As the feelings grow, the friendship deepens. No matter what others might see as a flaw, a friend seems to have a knack at getting to the truth . . . and helps the other to see it.

       He heard her voice, void of emotion. "Come in."

       Aaron stepped into the room and saw her sitting at the foot of the bed. Shalene appeared tired. He asked, "What's wrong?"

       Shalene voiced helplessly, "I saw the scar in the mirror."

       He sat next to her. After a pause to get his thoughts together, he started to speak, thought again, started and stopped again. Finally, he asked, "How can I help?"

       Shalene took notice of Aaron seated with his elbows rested on his knees and his hands clasped, his eyes trained on the ground. He appeared to struggle. Somehow, she saw her struggle in Aaron's expression, as if he looked for an answer that couldn't be found.

       She, however, no longer found the struggle worth her while. At this point, when she saw the scar's ugliness, the point of it became clear.

       Aaron turned to see Shalene staring at him with hardly an expression. She slid closer and laid her scarred cheek gently on his shoulder, and then wrapped her arms around him. With his left hand, Aaron gently grasped her arm. He asked again. "What do you need, Shalene?"

       "Nothing." She responded, quietly, the emotion beginning to build. "Aaron, I just can't see the scar as anything but ugly."

       Aaron straightened and took her hand. The movement forced her to sit up. "Didn't we talk about this?"
       Shalene shrugged. "I wasn't looking at it. And it's not like I don't believe you because I do. Still, when I see it . . ."

       "But you saw it." Aaron began looking at it and touched it. "You know that I see it, too. Every time I'm with you. It doesn't change how beautiful you are, because I've seen it from the very beginning."

       Shalene didn't know how to respond.

       Aaron asked her. "You know you're beautiful to me, right?"

       "I know, Aaron, but there's so many others who are beautiful and don't have this scar. Like Martha."

       "None of them are you. How do I help you see that when I'm with you and you relax . . . there's no one more beautiful in this world to me. The way we talk and just enjoy. Think about Papa Joe's. Think about how easy everything is with us."

       "This isn't, though."

       Aaron smiled. "Yes it is. And if we have to go through this every day of our lives, we'll do it."

       Shalene looked intensely at Aaron, "How do you know it's not just pity for the poor girl with the scar?"

       Aaron's eyes widened at the question. After he recovered he came back just as intense. "Because of everything else."

       "Like what?"

       He kept control. "Did you enjoy yesterday with me?"

       "Yeah, but-"

       "But nothing. Did you have fun Saturday?"

       Shalene felt her defenses weaken a little. "Yes."

       "What about tonight when we finally came together, did you have fun?"

       "Yes."

       Aaron kept it going. "How about the baseball game?"

       "Yes."

       "And did you help me through my fear of taking a chance on pitching?"

       Shalene fought, though her resistance held thin. "I'm not sure."

       "You did, okay?"

       Shalene smiled. She couldn't help herself.

       "Look at what you've done where my grandpa is concerned."

       Confused, Shalene asked, "I didn't do anything."

       "You got me this house and you promised to help me with him. And that was without really knowing him . . . by the way, you're getting the better end of that bargain because he's awesome."

       A familiar excitement began to grow within Shalene. "I don't understand. Why is that such a great thing?"

       Without hesitating he continued, "Not once did you question the fact that I wanted to bring my grandpa to live with me, not like the others I told. And it's because you get it, no different than when you took care of your grandpa."

       Shalene didn't speak because she knew what he meant. Maybe she lived with and took care of her grandpa because she wanted to get away from the trap of others. In the same respect, Shalene dearly loved her grandpa and wanted the best for him. She also took better care of him than anyone else could have. Just like Aaron, Shalene understood family and what it meant. Like all the other things they had in common, this never needed to be explained. They just understood because they thought the same.

       Barely above a whisper, Aaron asked, "So, before you begin to think I'm taking pity on you, I want you to think about us."

       Shalene didn't expect this.

       He continued, "Before you begin to wonder if I'm making up our connection, stop and think about that first night at Tossed."

       Shalene started to smile and resisted the urge to laugh, the urge to add, "And you sat there watching me run away."

       Again, to Shalene's surprise, Aaron gave words to the thought. "And if you wouldn'tve dashed out on me that night, we would've found out how much we both like baseball a week earlier, and maybe even had a few more dates before you were too nervous to call." Aaron saw Shalene relaxing. "Shalene, I know I'm not perfect and I'm not always going to say the right things. Kind of like now." Aaron blushed at the way he seemed to carry on. "I just know I care about you and I have a lot of reasons for it."

FINAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The most amazing friendship I've ever experienced began the relationship between my wife and I, a friendship we added to, but never replaced.

MB1 #4 - Dream Once Lost

A lifelong dream, once experienced can be a difficult thing to recapture. Especially after a long period of time. Aaron Murphy found himself in such a situation and, when the opportunity presented itself again, his reluctance would not be easily overcome. Maybe, not at all?


from Chapter 11 - Top of the Sixth       
       The two headed down the steps to their seats where they saw the coach and Matt standing at the edge of the dugout.
       As soon as Aaron made eye contact, the coach spoke up. “Aaron Murphy. Mike Brown. I'm the pitching coach for the Indians. How’s that arm of yours feeling?”
       “Huh?” Aaron would have dropped the nachos but Shalene quickly stopped the descent as she steadied his hand. She then proceeded to take the soda and hot dog, as well as the nachos from Aaron, putting them on top of the dugout.
       Mike smiled, “Nice catch!”       
       While moving the food down, Shalene smiled and glanced toward the coach. “Thanks.”               Mike then turned to Aaron. “You played some years back.”       
       “Yeah.” Aaron responded, looking at Matt annoyed.       
       “I seem to remember you had a lot of promise. Matt here says you had an arm injury.”                   “That's right.” Aaron faced Matt. “What’s going on?”       
       Mike Brown responded matter-of-fact. “How would you like to try and come back? You’re, what, twenty-eight? That’s not too old. Plus, from the looks of you, you're keeping in shape.”               Aaron stood stiff from shock. “Look, I’m not sure what Matt said to you but I don’t intend to try and start things backup with baseball.”       
       “I understand. How about this. Matt here has your cell, right?”       
       “Yep.” Aaron said sharply while staring at Matt who now ducked back into the dugout, as if someone called him down.       
       Mike continued, “Why don’t I have him call and we’ll go from there?”       
       “Honestly, Mike, I don’t know that I’m worth anything now.”       
       “Well then it’ll be a good time for you two to catch up.”       
       “That would be about it, I think.”       
       “Great!” Responded Mike, as if he heard a different answer. “Enjoy the game and I hope we’ll be talking again soon.”       
       “Nice meeting you.”       
       Matt popped up from the dugout again, only his eyes and fingers visible. “Aaron, I’ll give you a call, okay?”       
       “Sounds good. And we'll definitely talk then.” Aaron replied to clarify his displeasure.

FINAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I've never found myself in such a situation, mainly, because I've never found myself so naturally gifted at something to warrant such attention. Part of me thinks, however, that if I did end up with a situation of being re-discovered, I would jump at the opportunity to try again. Then again, if I was able to live a dream -- like writing professionally, for example -- and if I had to stop for a period of time due to failure, I wonder if I could battle back to the top and try again, especially, if my reasons for staying away surrounded a situation similar to Aaron's. What situation you might ask? That's a question better asked after reading the story, the only way to have a full understanding of what our pasts can do to our future.


More To Come.....

MB1 #3 - Uncertainty

Think about those times in life when something magical happens and, at the same time, everything appears to go wrong. The time when we meet that special someone who changes us, somehow, in an instant. Aaron Murphy felt that way about Shalene McManus from the first moment he met her. So time began to run away from him and the hours blurred while he waited and hoped.

FROM CHAPTER 9....
Not knowing what to think about Shalene left Aaron out of sorts. To get through, he focused all of his energy on organizing and unpacking the rest of his belongings, and re-arranging some of the rooms, anything to keep himself busy. Even with so much complete, he found more boxes to empty and more house to arrange.
Sunday, after church, he began and the diversion worked, mostly. Unfortunately, it only took two days. By Monday night, he found himself without anything to do at home -- not to mention all the vacation, a blessing that now seemed more of a curse.
Time continued, with or without him. Helpless to solve the questions that consumed him, Aaron couldn't find a moment of total relaxation. He found himself in his basement watching baseball, mostly, but also putting in some of his movies. Thinking the action and fantastic realities would help, he put in movies such as The Mummy and Indiana Jones, Lord of the Rings, Thor, Captain America, anything that offered a chance to escape.
Even though he tried, nothing helped and the confusion of thoughts that involved Shalene continued to interrupt the usual flow of his life. As the hours past a familiar unrest appeared, to take hold.
The only other time he recalled such uneasiness, when his baseball career ended suddenly due to what the pitching coach referred to as a phantom injury, one of those things that just happened without any explanation.
This is how he began to feel about Shalene. Ever since Tossed, he saw the possibility of a great relationship. Aaron could only think of one other time he found such peace, while standing on the pitching mound of a Major League ballpark. Maybe not exactly the same but awfully close.
Still, he didn't really know much about Shalene, but then again, he couldn't ignore the rush of feelings that came over him when Shalene and he sat together at Tossed.
Because of the restlessness, on more than one occasion, Aaron thought of cutting his vacation short, simply for the distraction, even if the thought was pointless. Once word of the change came down from his boss's boss, that the company expected all vacation time used by the end of February, one of two things would happen. Aaron either took his vacation time or lost his job. To drive the point home, Aaron's boss made it clear that this use of accrued vacation did not come in the form of a request.
      Therefore, time continued to stretch. As it did, Aaron found himself hoping that Shalene would come see the house, that he’d get the chance to sit down with her and talk so they could learn about one another. Maybe things wouldn't work out but, at least, he'd know.


FINAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:  I look back on my life and recall the time after my car accident in high school. Before that accident, my pitching appeared to begin to take shape and I could feel everything in my life start to fall into place. But then, in one moment, everything went wrong. The details had been filled in for me since, however, the day the accident happened, I can only remember driving down a side road. After that, I recall waking in a haze, my vision blurred at the edges, and the first thing I recognized: my parents and my oldest brother. Next, it dawned on me that I lay in a hospital bed and the seriousness of the situation hit me, just before I closed my eyes from exhaustion. Months later, the effects of the concussion cleared enough that I could go home. From there, getting back to my life became a slow process of time standing still, stretched. Many days and weeks and hours of restlessness, frustrated by the fact that I wasn't allowed any activity -- accept for the times I felt ready to bust and snuck outside to shoot baskets. Something else occurred during that period, though. I came to a realization about my life, the fact that I had two choices: I could give into the temptation to feel sorry for myself, or I could pick myself up and move forward. That lesson became a life long one and, even though I have my moments -- like everyone -- I still choose to move forward and keep fighting -- no matter what.

More to come......

MB1 #2 - Past Reality Affected

Our pasts aren't perfect. As we grow, we all receive bumps and scrapes. When we feel the pressure of life bearing down upon us, we tend to move faster. In turn, the slaps and scrapes come faster. Sometimes, we make it through on our feet. Other times, however, like Shalene, in this passage, we're cut by it and fall to the ground. When that happens, we have to get up, brush ourselves off and, whether reluctantly or not, we need to accept help. When it's all said and done, the result comes with a scar.


from Chapter 5 – Top of the Third
After falling among the trees, Twelve year old Shalene ended up on the outskirts of the wooded forest. She turned to see the men circle around her. Two of them knelt down and one asked, “Shalene, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Shalene responded angrily as she brushed and slapped away the leaves.
The man began brushing leaves and grass off of her. “Why did you all run?”
“Because we didn’t want to get caught. Why'd you all keep chasing?”
“Shay.” The man admonished.
Shalene put her head down and pursed her lips. She knew her foster father didn’t like her talking back, especially at times when his co-workers were around.
“Chief,” said one of the police officers as he peered at her cheek, opposite Wes Thompson, “look at the other side of her face.”
He snapped to attention. “What's wrong?”
Shalene tried to hide it.
“Shay, let me see.”
Reluctantly, she dropped her hand and turned as her foster father shined his flashlight on the right side of her face where he saw a bloodied gash. “Shay, we have to get you to the hospital.”
Shalene withdrew. “What? No, I’m fine.”
Wes ignored his daughter. “Joe, you’re squad car is in the back. Can you take her?”
“You bet.”
Shalene tried to protest but her dad continued ignoring her and gave instructions to the five officers under his command. Wes ran in and told his wife what had happened and Brenda Thompson ran out with all of the kids behind her.
That night, Shalene sat in the emergency room while a doctor and nurses cleaned the wound and applied stitches. Shalene bit back tears as Brittany, also twelve, sat holding her hand while her parents tried to help her relax.
A couple weeks after the stitches had been removed, the scar became puffy and appeared to be splitting again, so she had to be brought back. The doctor said, with a scar of this size, infection wasn’t uncommon. He took care of the infection but the damage to her face couldn't be helped without plastic surgery. Her dad's insurance refused to cover it unless the scar had life threatening implications.
Even though her foster parents had said they could setup payments, Shalene stubbornly refused their help, choosing instead to live with it.


FINAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:  My life growing up was no different than anyone else. I was no more perfect than the world around me. With each mistake something else came with it. Sometimes it took longer. However, with every mistake and difficulty within my life, came a chance to grow. Like the character, Shalene, I struggled to learn. But, then again, that's not the whole story.

More To Come......

A Life's Story Begins - MB1 #1

Scars affect us all. Whether they're physical or emotional, they have a way of affecting  our lives. The bigger the scar, the more they affect our lives.

The following is chapter one of a novel I've recently finished and am planning on releasing in the next few months. One of the main topics of this novel has to do with the scars I just described. As I prepare to release the book -- the first of three planned for the series -- I'll drop a few more hints. I hope you enjoy!

MIRACULOUS BEAUTY
A LIFE'S STORY BEGINS-BOOK I
by: Mark England

Chapter 1 – Top of the First
Game one, top of the first inning, Shalene McManus's life, at the age of twelve, became an uphill struggle. The slaps and stings, cuts and scrapes, that she received in the early moments of action became a permanent part of her battle and the mark left behind perpetuated it.
Aaron Murphy's top of the first came at the age of nine and six years earlier. His scars weren't as visible but no less a reality. Neither knew they were destined to end up on the same team, but when it happened?
Well, maybe I should let their story speak for itself.

₪₪₪

Fifteen years ago, Reggie in the lead, Shalene made her way through the woods with the others, as quietly as possible. The light failing, dark shadows lengthened across the path. Crack! Everyone stopped in their tracks. Someone’s coming.
Seven brothers and sisters ran for the trees to hide. Thirty yards deep, they stopped and waited. As the dark figures passed along the path, Shalene, Reggie and the others picked up bits and pieces of conversation and knew they had been caught.
After another twenty minutes, the kids decided to head back, except this time, well off the path. Almost home, they heard footsteps and began running. Near the edge of the woods, the branches thickened around them but the thought of being in trouble brought about a sense of urgency to run faster. Shalene and the others ducked and weaved, arms up to block the branches that whipped and slapped back with surprising force.
        Shalene didn’t see the thick branch that grazed her right forearm. The sting of it, after so many hits, caused her to instinctively drop her arm into her left hand. Then it happened.
The darkness hid another branch that cut deep as she lifted and turned her head instinctively. The searing pain brought her to her knees, face down on the wooded floor among leaves, sticks and gumballs. She looked up to see, with blurred vision, the kids break through the last of the trees and head for home. Shalene turned quickly to see the men on top of her. At that moment, she relaxed enough to feel pain burn into her cheek. Then she felt the warmth of blood begin to ooze to the surface, dripping down onto her shirt and jeans as she sat up on her knees, the pain burning like fire.

₪₪₪

        Every Friday night, at exactly 6:45pm, after a Weight Watchers dinner, Shalene McManus gathered her laundry and headed down eight flights of stairs to the basement where five washers and five dryers stood to offer their services for the tenants of Ontario Hills Apartments.
After making her way down the closed stairwell, through the muffled commotion and noise of doors opening and closing in the hallways on the other side, the occasional shouting and laughing from those headed out for the night, she reached the coolness of the basement, the hard, grimy, black and white tiled floor and one exterior cement wall surrounded by paint-free drywall – one with a brown door frame. Eight spotlights shown from the drywall ceiling to splash light down upon the washers, dryers, foldout wood grain table and floor. In the shadows of one corner stood a green trash can filled with lint and fabric softener.
Sweet silence. Shalene enjoyed the quiet -- one of the main reasons for doing her laundry at this time. The coins scraped and clinked as she slid them in place. She dumped her laundry and detergent, and, finally, delivered the washer’s commission which set it into action.
Something different occurred this Friday, though. As she turned around, a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties came bouncing down the steps and practically tiptoed into the room with a light load. She smiled, her eyes bright and blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders.
“Hi, I’m Cynthia.”
Shalene kept her face sideways, only revealing her left side. She smiled politely and answered without thinking. “Hi, I’m Shalene.”
“Nice to meet you, Shalene." Cynthia pulled her bundle of clothes out of her basket to deliver them to the washer. She turned her head to see Shalene standing still. "I don’t remember seeing you around. Are you new here?”
Shalene shook her head slowly. “Been here for about a year.”
Cynthia stopped before dropping the last coin in the tray. “A year! Why don’t I remember ever seeing you?”
“I don’t get out much.” Shalene offered the explanation.
Cynthia laughed innocently. “Well, anyway, it’s nice to meet you. What floor do you live on?”
“Third floor, by the steps.”
“Third floor! That’s where I live. 315, halfway down. I can’t believe it. A whole year living on the same floor, and I can’t recall ever seeing you.”
Shalene didn’t respond as she began to turn and leave.
Cynthia started the washing machine, and looked behind her. “Shalene. That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to do something tonight? Doesn’t have to be anything major, just hangout.”
Shalene turned to face Cynthia forgetting herself. “Thank you but no, I’d just like to go back to my apartment and relax.”
Suddenly, Cynthia’s face changed -- just like all the others when they saw the scar. Cynthia didn’t say anything but her look said enough and Shalene headed for the steps.
Cynthia chased after. “Hey, wait, let’s walk up together!”
Shalene slowed. She felt the tension. Her mind and hearing clouded. Cynthia was saying something about the weather and Shalene could tell she was trying to be pleasant, but Cynthia saw the scar and everything would change from that moment. Shalene smiled and nodded when she didn’t hear quite everything.
Once Shalene reached her floor, she smiled, told Cynthia to have a great night. She ducked into her apartment where she’d stay until she felt certain the poor unfortunate soul had finished her laundry. Why do I have to live with something so hideous?
        Every morning, she awoke and would stare at it in the mirror, wondering why something so ugly had to be a part of her. It seemed to hurt the most when someone commented on her beauty, only to take pause when they saw the scar.
So beautiful. Yeah, such beauty only if she didn’t have that hideous red tear that sliced the right side of her face from just above her ear to curl back near her mouth in the shape of a backward S.
When it happened, Shalene had been taken straight to the hospital where they cleaned and stitched the cut. So much pain, but not half as bad as the infection that occurred a week later. Eventually, it healed and the infection disappeared but not until the significant scarring ruined her face and caused a lifetime of pain she felt powerless to remove.
So beautiful. Perhaps, before the accident. After that, her beauty vanished. Boys would point and girls would laugh at her in school. The names: Bride of Frankenstein, Scar, or Beauty Now the Beast -- she couldn’t help laughing at that one when she was alone, before she began to cry.
High School came and went. No dances, no boyfriends, just school and home. Actually, one boy did ask her out but someone put him up to it, so it really wasn’t his idea. She refused.
Then came college when a boy did finally trick her into going out with him. She liked him a lot. He was handsome and liked to laugh. She thought he was going to be with her forever. That is, until two months into the relationship when he decided he could have someone more perfect looking. Last thing he said to her, “You need to get rid of that hideous scar because it’s killing you.”
The next week, she cried when she was alone. Then she was over it and found herself over boys. Why bother? Her internship led to a job at a bank when she graduated. Soon, she found enjoyment in everyday life. No need to complicate things. Just go to work, take care of the things she needed and get back home to watch baseball.
Boys had always told her that a girl who loved baseball like she did was just weird; but, then again, everything about her seemed to head that direction. So, she lived, worked and watched baseball on television. Life stayed good that way.
-----------------------------------
About The Author: Parts of this story came from a past event that happened to me in high school. I pitched for my high school baseball team and, my junior year, I had been slated as the number one pitcher. On the way to a pre-game in which I was going to pitch, I was involved in a car accident. I survived the accident with a concussion that ended my junior year of pitching before it could begin. I also lost just about all of the second semester of school. I have no delusions that I would have, one day, been a great pitcher in the majors, or even that I had the ability to be a major league pitcher. However, during that time, I learned something that I've carried with me throughout my life. This left a scar of sorts in my life, but in the same respect, it also brought to me one of the greatest blessings I could have ever imagined: An incredible wife and two amazing children.

More to come......