Between Storms

It’s already been a busy week.

And it’s only Wednesday.

Kids are back in school. Homework is back. Baseball practice picked up again after a week off.

Everything is moving.

Work has been different, though.

Not quiet, but not chaotic either. More organizing. Cleaning up. Preparing. Planning. Meetings about what’s next, even if “next” isn’t fully clear yet.

There are always issues that come up, things the teams bring forward. But this week, they’ve been manageable. Almost merciful.

We all know that’s not always how it goes.

So I’ve been using the time.

Digging through years of notes. Old agendas. Half-finished thoughts. Clearing space. Reorganizing things that haven’t been touched in a while.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m preparing for.

But it feels like something.

Like that quiet stretch before weather rolls in. Not calm because nothing is happening, but calm because something will.

I’ve learned not to fight these moments.

I like movement. I like chaos. But there’s always an order underneath it all. And when things slow just enough, you get a chance to find it again.

To clean the space.

To reset your footing.

To be ready.

Because storms always come back around.

Zoey has all of her schoolwork caught up.

She’s excited to see her friends again, which has been good to see. But at the same time, she’s already counting down the days until the end of the school year.

This is her first year not being homeschooled.

After the year she’s had, I can’t say that I blame her.

Asher is doing well.

There’s something shifting there. Small, but noticeable. A little more listening. A little more awareness. Maybe it’s maturity. Maybe it’s just growth showing up in quiet ways.

He surprised me the other day.

Asked if maybe he could play baseball next year.

This is the same kid who wanted nothing to do with it this year. Not even a little.

So now I’m not sure.

Maybe he wants to play.

Maybe he sees his brothers out there having fun and wants to be part of it.

Or maybe it’s just the snacks.

Honestly, it could go either way.

Last night was baseball.

Both boys. Same field. Back-to-back practices.

I wrapped work late. Later than I wanted. Grabbed dinner for Jacob, David, and me on the way out, then headed to the field.

That drive… it’s one of my favorite parts.

Just us. Talking, laughing, nothing complicated. Boys being boys, and me just getting to be there with them.

Jacob was up first.

You could tell the week off set him back a little, but only a little. Nothing a few nights of catch won’t fix.

They were working on stopping steals. Simple drills, one runner, waiting on the pitch, then taking off.

When it was Jacob’s turn to run, they didn’t have a chance.

Coach actually told him to slow down so they could practice the stop.

He listened.

Mostly.

There was a moment, lead off third, dropped pitch, and he took off. Got himself into a pickle. Back and forth, back and forth.

I could almost hear him laughing.

Then someone made a mistake, and he turned it into a run.

That grin. That fire.

It was all right there.

David was right after.

Quick reset, same field.

They started with infield drills. Plays at second, plays at third. He was locked in.

One drop out of a whole set. Strong throws. Clean movement. A couple got past him, sure, but overall solid.

Then outfield work. Long shots, everyone calling for it, chasing it down, sending it back in.

His arm has gotten stronger. You can see it now.

Then a short scrimmage.

Four pitches each, then take a base.

He didn’t get a hit, but he took first.

Next pitch, he was gone.

Second base before anyone really reacted.

A few pitches later, he made it to third by a hair. Then a bad pitch came through, and he took home.

Same look as his brother.

Same smile. Same fire.

He’s back. He’s healthy. And he loves this game.

They both got their jerseys and hats last night.

Jacob is repping the Tampa Bay Rays. Fitting, since rays are one of his favorite sea creatures.

David lit up when he saw his. Chicago White Sox.

No hesitation.

That’s his team.

Both of them are number five.

David had a choice. Could’ve gone one up, one down, something different.

He didn’t.

He picked the same number.

Told Jacob, “We’re the five bros.”

Sleep was rough.

But here we are again.

Back at it.

Cleaning. Organizing. Planning. Meetings. Follow-ups.

Preparing for something I can’t quite see yet.

And every now and then, drifting back to the field.

To the smiles. The movement. The sound of them calling for the ball.

That part is clear.

There’s a strange kind of clarity that shows up when things aren’t fully defined. No immediate crisis. No clear storm on the horizon. Just movement without urgency. It used to feel uncomfortable, like something was missing. Now it feels like space. Space to clean, to organize, to think. Not because things are easy, but because this is the only time you get to prepare before everything speeds up again. You don’t always get to see what’s coming, but you can still get ready for it.

This is a grounded moment where the work between storms is what keeps you steady when they arrive.

Much love. Stay safe. Wash your damn hands. I’ll see you Friday.