“This router bullshit is really starting to piss me off.”
He tried to shrug it off before he threw the ball back to me, but couldn’t resist. “When’d you start swearing like that?”
I reached up for the catch – smack! – in my glove. “Mom taught me.” Flipped the ball out of my glove and tossed it back.
The wind caught it a little this time, but his height helped him and he reached far to his left to grab it. He thought for a moment before he threw it back to me, but didn’t say anything.
For several minutes we just threw the ball back and forth across the evening sky, not saying anything at all. It was nice, really, just to enjoy each other’s presence after so many years. And after a while, I saw what he was trying to say. The rhythm of the catch had taken over. Throw, smack, flip.
Made everything else feel unimportant.
Throw, smack, flip, day turned into dusk. Throw, smack, flip, we were back together.