More Slowness...On my Brothers and I

In early spring, after the snow thawed, my brothers and I played kickball in the backyard.

From the center of the yard, we rolled the purple plastic ball up the slight incline to the back porch where the kicker stood ready to swing their leg at the bouncing ball.

Along with tag, chase the monster, and hide and seek, we played kickball every so often throughout the summer into the cold autumn days before it snowed again.

When my brothers were six yeas old, my grandparents bought an automatic pitching machine, a plastic one that pitched wiffle balls. The bat that came with it was red, with an adjustable handle that my brothers and I swung with intensity. We waited for the machine to hum and click and release the ball, each time only about eight to ten feet from where it sat.