As we were riding home from Alex's baseball game, talking of the game, the memory of the defeat was lingering like a thick fog around us.
A soft, gentle voice from the backseat was heard, "My spirit hurts."
Lover of baseball.
Excited player of a "real" team.
Last man at the plate.
My reply, "Mine does, too, Sweetheart." And, it does.
For him, the team, our family...my football team (but that's a whole other story unfolding).
He tries so hard at games. Practices hard. His heart is in it...and, so far, nothing has paid off.
Before, I would encourage him that even the pro players get walked (and stranded on base) or strike out more times in a game than get a hit or a homerun.
Tonight, I offered hugs and a little extra "me and Mom time" after everyone else was asleep.
Some hurts heal best with no words spoken.