Yesterday was quite a day. All day
I felt like I was running around like a maniac getting things done without a
moment to breathe. Finally my father called me and asked if I could run an
errand for him. I tell him yes, because I know how stressed he is at work and I
really want to help alleviate some of his strain while I am here in Tennessee.
As the conversation was coming to an end, his voice suddenly perked up and he
asked me in a thick southern accent, “Do you wanna see a ball game tonight?” My
brain was saying, “Do I want to watch a group of men hit a ball with a stick for
hours? No.” However, my lips said, “Sure! Sounds like fun.” I didn’t say yes
because I have a problem with saying no. I have no issue saying, “No.” In fact
it is one of my favorite words. However, love is an action and not just a word
that you spit out when it is convenient. I love my father so I am more than
willing to power through several hours of my life and force myself to like overpaid
men standing around all night not hitting a ball with a stick, and enjoy myself
and his company. I have learned in my life that if you come into something
determined to have fun, you will end up having fun even if it is not your
thing. Pretty much you have to make it your thing for the time.
As the late evening approached I made
sure to eat a large bowl of rice pasta and finish it off with a cake. I wanted
to make sure that I would not be hungry during the game and boy, was I stuffed
when I had finished eating. An hour later, my father comes home and rushes me
out the door saying, “Hurry up! I don’t wanna be late!” We hop into his new
shiny silver car and zoom over to the stadium filled with country boys and
southern girls, rootin’ and tootin’ with mugs of bubbly cold beer sloshing in
their hands. My father turns to me bright-eyed and full of excitement and asked
me if I wanted nachos while excitedly pointing to the stand containing numerous
sodium-packed items of pure gluttonous joy. Looking up into his big brown eyes I
thought to myself, “I guess I can fit nachos in my already full stomach without
getting sick. I’ll just have to eat slowly.” So I replied with, “SOUNDS GREAT!”
In the most enthusiastic voice that I could muster up. We pass by the nacho
stand and I watch my very ADHD father see a pizza sign, his eyes light up even
more. “Girl.” He says to me in a thick southern accent while licking his lips
and gazing at the giant slice of plastic pizza over a tiny stand containing
trapped humans serving slices. “You have GOT to try their pizza. Every time I
go here they always run out and I have to get a hot dog. Their hot dogs are
nasty. Let’s get some pizza.”
“I
guess I can fit a slice of pizza in my stomach.” I think to myself as I
look down at my stomach and imagine it begin to expand till I pop like a
balloon. “Okay! But then no nachos.” I think my father misunderstood me when I
said the words, “No nachos,” interpreting it as a question because he
immediately responds with, “No! It’s okay! You will get both!” Thanks for
spoiling your little girl, dad. There is absolutely no way in hell that my tiny
body can fit both pizza and nachos inside of me after eating pasta and cake.
That is my version of going to an all-you-can-eat buffet and eating all of it,
literally. I had to quickly let my dad know that I can’t handle both nachos and
a slice of pizza so I told him that I will just stick with the pizza. He nodded
without really listening to me due to the fact that the deep dish pan pizza was
calling out to him like a siren on the rocks. As soon as we get our pizza, we sat
down in our seats and gazed onto the light-drenched baseball diamond as players
from both teams displayed the convulsing movements and contortions that they
like to call “warm ups.” Some of this movements made me laugh out loud because
of the extent of ridiculousness that was exhibited while maintaining an earnest
face that seemed to say, “Look at how awesome I look when I chew on my tobacco
and how far I can spit. I am SO cool.”
My father quickly stands up and
tells me he will be right back. This should have been a warning sign to me but
I was too distracted by the row of women and gay men in front of me taking more
selfies of themselves than Kim Kardashian does on a good hair day. In fact I
was impressed by the length of time they were able to obsess and take and post
selfies of themselves. (Hint, it lasted the entire game and bonus! They brought
selfie sticks.)
My dad returned more excited than
ever with two MASSIVE funnel cakes covered in powdered sugar. I am pretty sure
that my face turned a new shade of pale as I wondered how I am going to fit so
much food inside of me. Of course I thanked him and made a quick mental note
that my father is no longer allowed to be unaccompanied at a ball game. I also
acknowledge that this is his form of showing the action of love by buying me a
tremendous amount of food at an event that he treasures and enjoys
immensely.
I admit, I could not finish the food.
It was far too much. Despite having no interest in baseball, I maintained a
good attitude and even found myself screaming at the players like a banshee to
root on my father’s favorite team, the “Tennessee Smokeys.” Life isn’t about
experiencing only the things that you are interested in. Life is about spending
time with those that you love and if you truly love them, taking an interest in
what they love. Truly loving someone means going to that baseball game and
rooting for the team even though I would much rather be in nature taking a walk
or writing a book. Truly loving someone means setting down your work and
saying, “I have limited time with you in this life so I will spend as much as I
can making memories.” I will never be interested in baseball, but I will always
remember how much my father smiled when he watched me scream at the baseball
players “GO! MOVE FASTER! GET THAT GOAL!” Then learning that it isn’t called a
goal.
Yet a goal was achieved. A dad and
his daughter spent an evening at a baseball game and created an indelible
memory of love.
I am very happy for you! ;)
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