I am thankful for the sound of a metal bat hitting a baseball.
It reminds me of the park where Rooster played t-ball as a young child. The park was across the street from my house, and you often heard baseballs being hit late into the evenings. You could sometimes hear the crowd cheering as one of their youngsters hit the winning run.
It was a time of pre-teen angst and one I miss tremendously sometimes.
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