Mother Earth needed a break so she took a day off and headed to the ballpark, a Little League field in her neighborhood.  She loves baseball; always has since the day Abner Doubleday put his creation to work.The game was perfect for anyone needing to get away from the messes of life and the pressures of their world’s predicaments. 

The kids were all over the field when she got there. Parents were finding familiar seating and the coaches were huddled with the umpires. She found a place for herself and was surprised a few moments later when Father Time showed up and plopped next to her.

“Hey, Kiddo,” she said, “what are you doing here?” Father Time smiled and said, “Same thing as you, Mother Earth. Just catching my breath. Good to see ya, Girl!”

The kids hustled to their dugouts, then the home team took the field. Mother Earth told Father Time he was looking good and he said she did, too, despite her frazzled expression. She smiled, saying, “That comes with the territory these days.”  They locked eyes and she added, “I’m not Ol’ Man River, like you.” Father Time laughed. “I hear you,” he said. “People can waste me but they can’t beat me up.”

Mother Earth held his eyes, saying, “Don’t go feeling sorry for me. That’s why I’m here. The game calms me and the kids are so focused on what they’re doing, just having fun.”

“I’m right there with you, Mother Earth. But I’m guessing there’s something more that brings you here.”

“There is. It’s not just the game, Father Time. It’s the way they care about everything. I need some of that. Makes me jealous in a way.” She smiled. “The sensitivity, their respect for the rules, seeing the Big Picture. May sound silly and selfish but I’d like to be pampered the way they pamper this playing field. If most everyone took care of their patch of me like that I’d feel like a Walt Disney princess, and look like one, too!”

Father Time roared at that, slapped his knee, saying, “Whoa, Girl. Sounds like you have feelings about how you are treated.”

“Just want to be cared for. And loved – the way they love their game. And I don’t think that’s too much to ask, Father Time.”

“Far from it, Mother Earth. I’d like to say, ‘Just give them time,’ but that sounds self-serving. We both know it’s a matter of right now. They’re hearing what they need to hear but as you and I know it’s the doing that matters.” 

“‘Fraid so, Father Time, ‘fraid so…  Maybe,” she sighed, “if every day could be Earth Day…   But we came here for baseball!”