Home At Last
   by Eric J

Breathing hard after a long, hot jog from the passenger terminal, I drop my bags behind the right field fence and lift the brim of my cap to mop my forehead. 260 feet away, a tall, handsome boy taps the far side of the plate with his bat and kicks dirt from the batter’s box. On the mound, the pitcher reads his catcher’s signal and nods approval. With a high kick and a strong push off his right leg, the pitcher rockets a fastball toward home plate. Though frustrated by our plane’s late arrival, I’m so happy to be home, standing at the ballpark on this sunny day.

Despite the ball’s astonishing speed, the batter’s timing is perfect and his bat meets the ball squarely over home plate. With a crack heard ‘round the park, the ball takes off for deep right field.

Raising my arms in a giant V, I jump and shout as the ball sails high over the luckless right fielder and continues over my outstretched arms. The young hitter punches the air and starts his glory trot around the bases. The first base coach high-fives him as he rounds the bag and heads for second. Then, with a glance toward right field and his homerun ball, the boy suddenly stops and stares wide-eyed in my direction. To the shock of everyone in the park, his magnificent hit is forgotten as he takes off running for the right field fence. Dashing past the startled right fielder, he hurdles the fence and into the arms of his proud and tearful father. After a year at war, his daddy is home. And that’s what Air Force life means to me: a chance to serve this great country and return home to the people I love.