Letting go

I think a lot about the sweet left-handed Rawlings baseball glove that my parents bought me when I was a kid.

It looked just like this picture.

It was not one of those cheap-o ones like I have now.

On rare occasions Dad and I would play catch in the yard.

Dad had a blonde colored glove.

It was cool, but not left-handed.

I let Eddie borrow my glove one time.

He was left-handed, too.

Never saw it again.

I’m still bitter about it.

Oh and Eddie’s sister was annoying.