“I keep forgetting that’s there.”

I picked it up.

Twenty years that bat had hung on two nails behind that door, since the summer she played church league softball and struck out eleven times in six games and never once got discouraged.

The tape on the handle had gone dark where her hands used to be.

I set it back in its notch.

“Dad, if Daniel calls here tonight, don’t pick up.”

She said it looking at the stove.