Lucas chose the place.
When his father arrived, he carried an old baseball glove.
Lucas recognized it immediately.
“That was in the picture.”
The man smiled.
“Yeah. I’ve had it for a long time.”
Lucas looked at the glove.
“Are you any good?”
The man laughed.
“Not as good as I thought I was when I was your age.”
Lucas handed him a ball.
“Let’s see.”
Their first few throws were awkward.
One went too high.
Another bounced across the grass.
But eventually they found a rhythm.
I stood nearby and watched.
Nothing was magically fixed that afternoon.
Ten years couldn’t disappear because two people finally met.
But something new began.
Over the following weeks, Lucas’s father stayed patient.
He called without demanding attention.
When Lucas didn’t feel like talking, he respected it.
When Lucas wanted to ask questions, he answered honestly.
He never asked Lucas to call him anything he wasn’t comfortable with.
