SOUNDS ARE ABUNDANT.
Tonight, when I went outside to cut my fingernails, they were everywhere.
The frogs made sounds.
The bugs made plenty.
The owls cranked up their calls.
Even the clippers made noise.
It was like everything had its place in the symphony of the night.
Earlier, I wondered why I heard so much fake noise on a baseball broadcast.
Maybe I found the answer on the back porch.
Maybe it’s because something feels a little out of place.
A game without fans is like a night without frogs, bugs and owls.
It’s like a morning without birdsongs.
A lot of things seem out of place, disjointed, right now.
They have for months.
Even without fans, the prospect of baseball’s opening day feels familiar.
It feels somewhat normal, even in July, despite the fact this regular season will have 102 fewer games than the 2019 regular season.
It seems OK to hurl those numbers out of the nearest window, because a little bit of normalcy in the age of coronavirus is a big blessing to a lot of people.
The pop of a pitch in a catcher’s mitt could signal a few hours of escape.
The crack of the bat might take a mind off of a worry.
The Braves start Friday, and a 60-game season sounds good to me.
This post is a response to Sue’s prompt, which is, “sound.“