THE FUTURE/PRESENT WRITER

I really wonder what the future is for my grandchildren; I only want the best for all of them. But they are all so different; they have their own skills and talents and abilities. I certainly believe that is how God planned it; He gives each of them gifts to be used according to His will. I just wish I could hang around long enough to see how it works out.

Our beautiful Kaylyn Marie McAnally is now in the 6th grade . . a middle schooler. It's hard now to figure out right now about her future. Will she be a softball player (very good) . . or possibly a volleyball player (very tall) . . or maybe a scientist (great in school) . . or a people person (she's definitaly that). I don't know, and Kaylyn doesn't know. She does know that God has something good in store for here.

Writing is a special skill for her, and it may be because both her Dad and Mother are writers in their occupations. She has the genes, that's for sure. She has been a winner in writing competions in her school and at Texas State University; she writes things I didn't think about until I was full grown. That's a compliment, not a criticism. She is a very perceptive thinker. She is also turning into a very beautiful person both physically and spiritually. Here is something she wrote a year ago.

SOFTBALL SENSATIONS by Kaylyn McAnally

Four bases – pearly white, but smudged with chocolate-colored dirt – emerge from the infield to form the corners of a softball diamond. The bleachers reflect bronze, silver and gold, as though they were made from Olympic medals. From the sky’s balcony seats the marshmallow clouds cheer for both teams.

The scent of water is thick and warns of rain. Churning dust tickles my nose every time I scoop up a grounder. The fragrance of newly-cut grass greets players running to the lush, green outfield. The aroma of my leather glove gives me the confidence to make the big play.

I try to block the sounds of the infield’s chattering as I step up to the plate. The fans’ cheers help me focus. The ball whizzes past home plate for a…strike! “Zero balls, one strike,” the umpire grunts. The next one zooms in and I swing… the “ding” announces my hit …all the way to the fence!! My cleat thuds as I step onto home plate. “Safe!”

I’m tired in the last inning of the game. My worn-out glove feels like an overgrown hand. The ball is hit and I lunge forward to make the catch. The ball lands forcefully in my glove, stinging my hand underneath. Teammates rush over, tackling me in a triumphant team hug.

My dry mouth enjoys the cold, crisp water I pour down my throat. A teammate offers me sour watermelon bubblegum. Instead, I grab a handful of salty sunflower seeds. Spitting the seeds onto the dugout floor, I celebrate our team’s win. Licking my lips, I discover the sweet flavor of victory.

My senses come alive at the softball field.
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One last GDad comment . . isn't Kaylyn something?