Closure

The season is over and life has shifted. My wife and I have moved from baseball 24/7 to "real life" again. Quite literally, too. We've moved from Savannah, into Ashley's mom's house, then into our apartment in near Collier Hills, Atlanta. I've loaded my car (my compact sedan...of course) full of boxes, furniture, TV's, gardening tools, clothes, and a Brita Water Filter (I just can't find it). For a solid week I drove around with my life in my car...my baseball life that is.

I live two distinctly different lives every six months. My baseball life is not 9 to 5. It's more like 2 to 11, which wreaks havoc on normalcy. It means I sleep in, eat at weird times, and spend more time at home (things close at 11). Baseball consumes life in nearly every aspect. Relationships that once had broad bases are boiled down to "how's ball going?" or "So, when you getting home?". You lose dinner dates because of extra innings and breakfast dates because of workouts. Life becomes one never-ending game (140 innings long). It's easy for me because I love it. It's not easy for everyone else because it takes no prisoners, asks no permission, and leaves a trail of tears (not a Native American reference) for 6 long months.

So it's good to be back. Back into the 9 to 5 swing. The life where dinner really does come before 8 and where people hang out after their jobs. I like a life where the only roommate you have is your best friend (no offense baseball roomies) and your stuff is really yours. I have a job just like the summer only this one doesn't consistently make me sweat more than most people. I miss playing ball and could honestly do it for another 6 months. I don't, however, miss the life it forces me to lead and the life it forces Ashley to bear.

Yet I'll blink and it'll be back, so I'm not worried. We had 6 good months, broke up, and now I've finally got some closure in the relationship...but we can still be friends.