The Hitting Zone

Thursday morning, we three had a slow start from staying up late, plus the slight dread of having to work the whole day had us dragging our feet.

Grampa had been sitting in the living room when we stumbled down the stairs. He slowly got up. "About time. Let me get heat up your burritos."

"Burritos?" I asked, rubbing my eyes, not sure if I was all the way awake yet.

"Yea, I prepped some breakfast burritos to clear up some space in the fridge." Grampa explained. "Individually wrapped, stored in the freezer. Pop it in the microwave for a minute or two and you boys will be ready to go. Dave, come set the fruit out."

"What's going to be in these burritos exactly?" Dave asked, taking a bowl of apples, oranges, and bananas from the kitchen counter to the dining table.

"Scrambled eggs, ham, onion, bell peppers, cheese, some salt and pepper." Grampa started to pull three out of the freezer. He unwrapped one and placed it on a plate before putting it in the microwave. He started it. "This is my first attempt at meal preparation, so you boys have to be honest on how it tastes. I'm thinking I'll take over for your mom on becoming the house cook. For all meals."

"Does Mom know that?" Noah laughed.

"What's she going to do about it?" Grampa grinned. "She should be happy to lose the chore."

"You're her dad." Noah smiled back. "You know how much she likes cooking. I bet you can get away with the breakfast meals, lunches are questionable, but no way you get all the dinners."

"I'll do what I can while I still can." He took out the finished heated burrito and gave it to Noah. He put another one in. "I can't handle all the running around and seeing you boys play baseball all over the place. This is easier on me."

"So I shouldn't expect you to go to any of my college games?" Dave asked.

"Maybe if you play a team on the west coast." Grampa said lightly. "I would hope it's Stanford, but I know that's unlikely. You kids aren't in the same conference."

"We won't know until late in the year because the season doesn't start until February." Dave said.

Grampa got the second burrito out of the microwave and handed it to me, then put the third in.

I eyed Noah as he was already a third of the way through his. Can't be that bad. I let it cool down, helping by blowing on it.

"Does this mean you're not interested in seeing Kyle play this summer with us?" Noah asked between bites.

"Oh! Kyle!" I hurried to put my burrito down and dig my phone out of my pocket. "We should wish him luck before his start today."

"That's the spirit." Grampa gave my shoulder a heavy pat.

I went into the group chat and saw that Dave had already sent a text: do better than last time. And Kyle replied: Will do. I went with the more generic: Good luck!

"It's weird to think that he jumped ahead of Zeke." Noah munched on his burrito, not making a move to send a message. He looked back to Grampa. "This would be better with some sour cream or salsa."

Grampa looked to me. "Do you think it's dry too?"

I picked my burrito back up. "I can eat it."

"He's not asking if you can eat; we all know that." Noah wagged a finger at me. "But would it be better with some kind of topping?"

I gave a small shrug. "Maybe salsa like you said. Definitely not sour cream though." I couldn't imagine having sour cream with my scrambled eggs. Gross.

Grampa rubbed his chin. "I'll make sure to add it to the grocery list. Today, you'll just have to do without."

Dave got the third and final burrito. "You didn't answer if you're going to see Kyle play in Arizona, Grampa."

Grampa put his hands down. "Well, as long as we keep it short. There's no time change so it won't be as hard. It'll still be difficult to plan with him being a pitcher. He needs to show some consistency and stay healthy."

"We'll see how he does today!" Noah went to the fridge and rummaged around, pulling out the milk. "Anyone else want a glass before we start?"

"Drink milk before going out to work in the hot sun?" Dave asked rhetorically. "I'll pass."

"I'll take a water." I told him between bites of my food.

"Same." Dave added.

Noah pulled two bottles out of the fridge, passing them over. "So who wants to tackle what? I don't really know how to work the lawnmower so that rules me out for that."

"I don't know how to mow either." I piped up.

Dave rolled his eyes. "You brats." He pointed at Noah. "You go clean up any equipment on the grass back there. I'll start in the front yard."

"What about me?" I asked.

"I'll teach you how to clean the grill." Grampa told me.

We finished our quick little breakfast and separated. Dave got the lawnmower out of the garage and got it going out front. Noah went to the backyard and started moving all the baseball gear we had just lying around, getting it all out of the way.

Grampa and I went to the grill and he opened it up. I then glanced up at Grampa. "Is it…dirty?"

"Of course not!" He laughed. "This is like my second child. I take good care of it. I make sure to do a proper cleaning after every use."

"Uh. Then what am I supposed to do?" I asked, even more confused.

"It doesn't hurt to show you how I clean it in preparation for cooking." Grampa explained. "Every young man should know how to work and clean a grill. You know when I was your age, I was already grilling my own burgers?" Grampa talked about his beginnings of a grill-master as he showed me how to take the grates off and put them in hot, soapy water. He showed me how to check and change the propane tank, wiping down the outside of the grill too for good measure.

After we were done, Grampa went inside to take a break which secretly meant nap, but he promised to take us out to lunch if we could get the deck all cleaned up by then. Noah joined me on deck duty as Dave eventually came to the backyard with the lawnmower. Whenever I thought we were close to being done, Noah would find something else to nitpick at. After the deep clean of the deck, I had to point out his perfectionism.

"It's not me." Noah defended. "It's for Mom and Dad. We have to show supreme care right now. Or the rest of the summer is in jeopardy."

"The rest of the summer…" I mumbled, not completely convinced.

But seeing Dave take a weedwacker to the edges of the yard and then sweeping up the scraps, was kind of credible. They really put in a lot of effort to the backyard this morning.