Today we were up with the birdies to head south for the last baseball game of the season. Waking up at 6:15 a.m. on a Sunday morning isn’t my favorite thing to do, but the drive was beautiful with all the fall colors and it was just me and my boy.
It’s not often we get to have that much time together alone.
We were done by 11:20 a.m. and ready to head home having just lost by one run in the bottom of the last inning. He just wanted to get out of there.
“I hate losing mom.”
“I know but you got to get out there and play a sport you love with your friends. Think about M who played a whole season without winning and still had a smile after every game.”
“Yeah, that’s true, but it doesn’t hurt to win every once in a while.” “And you know what I hate about losing? It means we didn’t do something right. We could have played better.”
He was really okay. He doesn’t take it as hard as some kids. And I love that he thinks about how he can make changes to affect the outcome next time.
Sorry–little bragging.
The terrific thing about living in Virginia is that we are surrounded by historical landmarks. How often do we take advantage of them? Not often. But we were up and out and it was still early and we actually had a Sunday afternoon with no plans, so I suggested a detour to Fredericksburg–just me and him–on the way home.
What a great day!
We visited Kenmore, the home of Fielding and Betty Lewis (George Washington’s sister). It was built before the Civil War and is going through restoration right now.
Big A wasn’t too psyched about the idea of taking a tour, but it was just the two of us on it and even without furniture in the house he was filled with questions.
He really was interested in how people lived, in how old things were, and had clearly paid attention to some of his history lessons being able to talk to the docent about Virginia history.
I walked around with a perma-grin the entire time.
Done with our tour, he then begged me to go over and visit the Fredericksburg Civil War battle site. How can you say no to a kid who wants to do more “hysterical” stuff as we joke in my family.
He could barely contain his excitement. He kept saying “do you think a confederate soldier stood here?” (I’d move one step to the left and say “no I think they stood right here.”)
The Civil War has never been something that interested me greatly–until today. Walking along the trails and looking over the fields where thousands of young men were killed fighting to protect a version of their country, I was struck by how much we take for granted even in at a divisive political time such as this election.
It wasn’t lost on me that those boys on that battle field could have been my boys. I owe it to those soldiers and the families who lost them to think of them and remember their sacrifice. And to be grateful for their passion to protect a country that really was still such a new experiment.
It’s easy to forget sometimes.
There were plaques around the cemetery with stanzas from a poem(s?) (I still don’t know which one, but will research it.) that say it better than I ever could.
I titled this photo above “hope.” For the words are my wish for my boys, their children and their children’s children.
But I don’t know if they understand.
