Tink! That was the noise of me breaking something in my living room swinging my wiffle ball bat. My mother, of course, yelled in response, “Take it outside!” I eventually outgrew that bat and was given my first real bat at the age of four.

This new bat carried me throughout my tee wee days. From bonding with my classmates on the playground to my social skills developing and having to speak to adults as I grew up. I then took it a step forward, for I met several new friends and traveled across Georgia. Compared my hometown in Covington, meeting and interacting with many different social classes and people was truly a great experience for me. Regardless of that, the bat began withering away, and so did I. I was forced to switch schools, and approaching a new school was scary, and this time the bat did not bring the same escape it once had.

This time, I had to escape from reality with other things, such as the internet, and just life experiences that were more unanimous to all. However, the bat did not leave me. I soon returned to my old school district with the same old friends, but this time we were older and not as interested in the bat. Sure, we played every year, but were we the same cordial loving friends? No- we had grown apart, which is something not even the bat could have saved.

I realized my junior year that the bat was not giving me the same joy it once had, so I quit and left the bat behind for more broad and unique experiences, such as theatre, student government, and many other clubs. With these new experiences, I became more joyful and really connected with others. Although I left the bat, it will always hold a special place in my heart; with all the memories I made with my father from it, and with everyone that was by my side amongst the journey of a sport we call Baseball.