I wish we had, although I never thought it would be this difficult to get a moment alone with her.
Looking back over all the time we’ve spent together, I wish I’d taken it more seriously. Cherished the nights where we’d sit on the couch talking after Trinity went to sleep when we’d be watching a stupid show. I wonder now how many chances I’ve missed. How many times I’ve taken it for granted. I’m fucking kicking myself for not taking advantage of all those missed opportunities.
Pulling myself back to the present, I wait for Natalie to be done and then set up to throw the next pitch.
This girl, I can’t remember her name, takes a hefty swing at the ball and sends it straight back. Everyone in the stands gets to their feet. I turn to watch, wondering if she’s going to hit it out of the ballpark.
Natalie remembers we’re actually having a real practice and yells at Trinity. “Go girl, go! Keep going!”
The ball slaps the back wall. “Go for it!” I yell to the outfielder, knowing she needs a little encouragement. Then I turn my attention back to Trinity, watching as her legs pump up and down, her arms doing the same.
Abandoning everyone else, I encourage my daughter to go for it. “C’mon, Trin! You got this!”
She’s rounding third and heading for home. My heart slaps against my chest as if I’m the one running and then I am.
Heading toward home plate, I’m determined to be there to meet her. Even if this is just a practice, it’s the first time she’s going to cross this accomplishment off her list and I’m damn well going to be there to see it.
This little girl of mine, she may not have been able to count on her mother, but she will always be able to count on me. These are the moments I typically miss just because of the job I have but, when I’m able, I make sure I’m screaming and encouraging her.
“Let’s go, Trinity!”
There’s so much noise behind me as I get to the plate, waving my arms around. I don’t think I’ve ever been this animated. In fact, I can remember one time I was at a friend’s son’s baseball game and made fun of the third base coach. Saying something like you’d never catch me acting like a fool trying to get a kid to cross over home plate.
But here I am, doing just that.
Her eyes are on me as she pumps her arms, kicking her knees up to her chest. Her tongue is between her lips and the helmet on her head bounces around as she digs her feet into the dirt.
If I could go out there, pick her up, and bring her over here, I would. Yet, I know this is something she has to do for herself. An accomplishment she deserves to reap the rewards of. In the background, everyone is screaming, but my focus is completely on her.
After what feels like an hour, she’s steps away.
The cheers erupt as she steps on home plate with authority. The smile on her face is huge as she runs to me with her arms spread wide.
Picking her up, I spin her around. “You did it!”
“I did,” she pants. “I did it.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
Her smile gets even wider. “I’m proud of myself.”
There’s nothing else I’ve wanted for her than for her to be proud. To know that there’s nothing other than herself that will hold her back from whatever she wants to do. It’s important for me as not only her father, but as the male figure in her life. She can accomplish anything she puts her mind to and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t know it. Every chance I get, I’ll encourage her independence and confidence in herself to grow.
“You should be.” I kiss her on the head and put her back on the ground.
Nat grins, coming over with her hands held out. “Girlfriend, you did amazing.”
“Because you told me what to do,” Trinity agrees. “If I hadn’t known that it was okay to keep running, I don’t know that I would’ve.”
“It’s okay; eventually you’ll know exactly what to do. It’ll be second-nature to you. The same way you know when to brush your teeth at night before bed.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
Watching the two of them together reinforces how smart I was to allow this woman to be in my daughter’s life. We’re both blessed that she came to us when she did. When Natalie looks over at me, I smile and give her a wink, although she can’t see it behind my sunglasses.
“Alright.” I clap my hands. “Let’s keep on keepin’ on. We have more to learn.”