Softball

The piece of us that a person sees
Is not always representative.

I remembered recently
A request an acquaintance made:
Join the church softball team.
I said no. She begged. I caved.

Almost two decades later,
Even the thought of that
Makes my heart pound.
Shame stains my cheeks.

I don’t do team sports.
I had no desire to stand where
A pitcher hurled a ball.
Why did I say yes?

I don’t think I paid for my jersey.
I never made it to a practice, let alone a game.
I didn’t return calls requesting my presence.
Did they field a team without me?

I was, in most respects, a dependable teen.
But if you had asked the organizer
She would have said anything but.
It shook my perception of myself.

The piece of us that a person sees
Is not always representative.