Cesare Pavese: A Short Story

“We don’t remember the days, we remember the moments.” Once
said Cesare Pavese. Cesare proves a big point if you really sit down and stare at a picture. They really do bring back memories, they make you remember that moment they can take you back to when you were at a birthday with friends or the smallest things like team pictures. I did that exact thing, I stared at a picture and wrote down exactly what I saw. Read on to see my five pictures that really took me back.

One of our best pitchers Masin are on the mound and we are up 6-5 top of the ninth two outs two strikes bases loaded. We could get an out or lose trying. Coaches, parents and players from each team are on their feet as this one pitch determines if we hit one more time. The ball is pitched and it was the most satisfying thing to hear, “Strike three, batter out!” and, “Ball game!”
The dust from my

glove flies up and slowly becomes mushy yet grainy in my mouth. All the players went from ready position to sprinting to the dugout. We all pile Mason in the sweaty suffocating dugout. I was so glad to take off my glove with a pool of sweat from the near 100-degree game. We all high five the other team with big smiles on my face saying good game. After the game our coach gives us all a big applause and mentions how loud it was when the ball hit my glove and how relieving that was for all of us.

Me and my sister Katie walk down our back porch stairs as the fresh morning air hits us. The fresh cut grass smell was still there from yesterday. My dog Maggie decided to come down to watch. The neighbor dogs and our dogs were both having a conversation that admittedly got highly annoying too quick. My sister repeatedly was telling me where to stand and how to look. “Perfect” she finally said as a grateful sigh came out.
All I could see was my dog getting dirty while rolling in the grass and my sister with a big bulky camera for a face. For the next minute or so all you could hear was the annoying constant clicking sound. As I was re positioning for what was supposed to be the final photo she told me to lean against the post. I didn’t argue because I knew this was a huge part of her photography class. So, I leaned against the wet damp post and she finally took the last photo saying “That’s the one!” In a successful sounding voice.
“ About time my cheekbones really hurt,” I said finally letting out a complaint. We both went upstairs as we hear heavy panting from behind us. We sit down and pet the gracious dog.

I’m at third base in y lead off as the pitcher starts his windup. Brady Welker is in a serious batting stance ready to jackm the ball over the fence the ball slowly leaves the pitcher's hand as it feels as if the entire world has just gone in slow motion. He hits the ball right through first and second basemen. My coach signals me to go as I take off like an airplane on a runway. I hesitate to slide which slows me down I finally slide and knew this was my last chance. The ball comes in and everyone is on the edge of their seats and it looks close as the umpire yells “Safe!”
Everyone pats me on the back as I rub of the brown streak of dirt on my grey pants. I take off my dull helmet as I clap of the grainy dirt in my and wash out the hill of dirt that entered my mouth. My shirt is streaked with dirt which makes me look camo on the field. At the end of the day we finally won.

We show up for my pre-k soccer pictures as I impatiently wait for my turn. I think my dad was a little annoyed that I was being so loud. It was difficult to wait but they finally called my name I anxiously jump on the stool as he hands me a soccer ball and says, “ Just rest this on your knee.” I do as told as he slowly positions me. He was highly annoyed with me too but I understood. I finally hear the satisfying click of the camera. I jump off adjusting my eyes from the blinding flash of the camera. The seat squeaks as the next person jumps on. I watch as my best friend gets his picture taken. He says say cheese as we all go and play what we came to do.

My dad and I went up and down Heritage in Kansas trying to fund the soccer complex.

I am shaking in my seat praying that we are on time for Jabulani group pictures we finally make it. I get out of the car and spirit with all the leg power I could and barely made it. All the kids yell saying, “It’s about time you made it.”
The photographer takes my picture and I sit with the rest of the team. We were still missing the last person who was probably going twice the speed limit. Henry finally makes it and we all measure ourselves tallest to smallest. Kids argued they were taller to hold their ground on the team. As usual I was the smallest. I was forced to kneel in the muddy soggy wet grass. Then we are all ready and the blinding flash hits us all. It was still about 10:00 in the morning there was still that mixture of morning dew and goose poop that made you wonder why does this smell not faze me. We all groan as the photographer says, “One more,” in a fake happy voice. The game finally starts as the referee proudly blows his whistle. I have that small relief that everything was ok and god was on my

side.

Cesare was truly right about how we don’t count the days we remember the memories. Now that you hear mine I challenge you to really sit down and look at a picture and maybe even do what I did and write your few pictures down.