11:11 Angels Message Board

The girls and I watched the ball roll to a stop against the trunk of a tall shady crepe myrtle.

As kids, we were mesmerized by most anything. Seconds earlier, from the bottom step of the back porch, one of my sisters had given our well-worn kickball a final punt towards the shrub before we ran inside to wash up for supper.

From somewhere we heard Mama’s voice. “Don’t leave that ball laying out there in the yard.”

We pretended not to hear. Our game wasn’t over. It could restart at a moment’s notice and we must be prepared! Put away a bike yes, a skateboard maybe, a kickball never. Unwritten rule.

My sisters and I, along with various cousins, played together in our backyard constantly. Most any time we could be found in the throes of Hide and Seek or Simon Says, but our pick-up kickball games made memories. Some of the best lasted from just after supper to just before lightning bugs. It was a fun, exciting, laugh-filled summer routine we knew would never end.

But it did.

Home Game — by Stuart M. Perkins

https://storyshucker.wordpress.com/2022 ... home-game/

Hi Welles,

This one really struck home for me as this week my Mom and Dad left the home they have always lived in for at least 60 years and into an assisted living place. My siblings, friends and I were nearly always found out in our big back yard until the lightening bugs began to light up the night. Even then a bit later if we were allowed to play "night games." The neighbours two hills over heard the laughter of happy children nearly every summer night back then.
Memories are so precious. Thank you for sharing this.

love,
Sandy