Cheerleader

The crack of the bat echoed through the crisp evening air as Lexi watched the softball climb high into the sky. Years of practice and instinct kicked in, propelling her forward. Before she even realized she'd begun running her feet hit the rubber mat at first base. Despite her heart pounding in her ears as she pushed herself to run faster she could hear the roar of the crowd cheering her on. But somehow above all that noise she could hear one voice clear as day.

“Run Lexi, run!” Mom urged her on. Lexi didn't have to check where the ball was, Mom said to run so she rounded first and soared to second. “Run Lexi!” Mom continued, so obediently, Lexi put her head down and pushed herself to run even faster as she turned toward third.

A cool breeze rustled over the infield, bringing with it a cloud of dust and pollen that threatened to turn the slight wheezing in her chest to a full blown asthma attack, but Lexi pushed on ignoring the growing stitch in her side as she drew nearer to third. She was nearly there when she heard Mom's voice go up an octave and her chant changed. “Go, Lexi, go, go, go!”

Lexi knew immediately that meant someone in the outfield finally had the ball and it was quickly on its way back to the catcher looming behind home plate. It was going to be close. A fact confirmed by the coach standing by third base signaling for her to stop. But Lexi knew if she couldn't make it Mom wouldn't be telling her to go so she mustered up every ounce of energy she had left and sailed on toward home. “Go, Lexi, go, go, go!” Mom's voice seemed to give her that last bit she needed to push forward.

The catcher, a girl easily a foot taller than Lexi and at least 3 years older, had positioned herself between Lexi and her homerun, glove extended as she waited for the softball to be thrown to her.

“Slide!!!!!” Mom’s voice was impossibly high, a clear signal to Lexi. Without a second of hesitation, Lexi obediently leaped forward, sliding through a cloud of dirt, past the treelike legs guarding the plate.

Thunk, the softball hit the supple leather glove of the catcher as Lexi's fingers slid onto the smooth surface of home plate.

Everything seemed to go silent, Lexi heard nothing over the thumping in her chest as she gasped for oxygen, the taste of gritty dirt filling her mouth. She heard the umpire shout something indistinguishable just before the crowd erupted in a barrage of cheers. For a moment she wondered who they were cheering until she heard Mom’s voice rise louder than the rest, “Whahoooo!”

A smile spread across Lexi's speckled face as her team rushed onto the field and lifted her onto their shoulders. She was sure scoring the winning run for her team in the championship game would have felt great no matter what, but she couldn't help feeling a surge of pride that she was the youngest player in the entire league. Of course, this wasn’t just her win. She knew there were other girls in the league with just as much talent and determination as she had, but there was one thing she had that no one else did: Mom.

Some moms show their love with snuggles and bedtime stories. Other moms express themselves through cooking and baking. My friend, Jaime, is another type of mom. (It has been suggested she is allergic to both hugs and cooking.) But, she is her children's fiercest champion and cheerleader. I've watched her leave work in tears, exhausted after a long, emotional day, only to see her out on the field, night after night, pitching to her daughter for hours on end. All of her vacation time was eaten up with tournaments and travel but she never missed a game. Softball is Lexi's passion and Lexi is Jaime's passion.