Once upon a time, there was a girl who got two strikes.

When the first ball was pitched to her, many years ago, she didn't think she wanted to play. She was looking for something else... perhaps a soccer ball or a tennis ball or even a fancy-dress ball... and so she didn't realize the importance of the game, and she missed the ball. Strike one.

A long while later, when the second ball was pitched to her, she had begun to realize just how much she valued this game, and she wanted desperately to hit the ball and make a home run... but she was already playing in another game by that time, and she didn't believe it would be right to abandon it in the middle and let down her team-mates. So she missed the second ball. Strike two.

Now, a great number of years later, the girl stands still in the empty baseball field, waiting and watching and wondering.  Coming back here, she realizes this is her home... this is where she always belonged and should have been all this time. But now, is the game over?  Is she out after two strikes, and must simply give up and walk off the field for good... perhaps look for something else to do with the rest of her life? Or, if she just waits quietly enough... patiently enough... long enough... might the pitcher come back onto the field and deliver that third pitch?  Might she finally feel the sweet perfection of bat hitting ball, and the wind coursing through her hair as she runs with all her might toward her destiny?


Once upon a time, there was a girl who got two strikes.  And the rest is still unwritten.