I found this when I was cleaning out some boxes today… didn’t date it, so I don’t know when I wrote it.
I remember the time we were playing baseball (softball?) on the church field. I remember that I couldn’t hit the ball because I couldn’t make the connection between hand, eye, ball, and bat. I also couldn’t catch for the same reason. It hurt my feelings that dad yelled at me for that. I never did well in sports and never even tried after that. In fact when I found that I liked to run and Terry took it up, I stopped; never going out for the track team. I knew I couldn’t compete with him and I didn’t want to. I let my dream of running go because I didn’t want to be in Terry’s shadow when it came to sports [he excelled at everything he tried]. I have since “distanced” myself in other areas and so has he. We don’t compete anymore; for the love of our parents, sports or anything else. We are brothers now and I like him as well as love him. I can’t run now (because of my knee) so I guess we’ll never know what might have been, but I can live with that. I have a brother that I love and that is more important.