Quiet

This is the baseball diamond at Westerdale. There's more history here, in this diamond, that in any of the professional diamonds in any city or town, bar none. It's empty now, since most of the people around are either too old, or too young to play baseball or softball.

So I just sit up in the bleachers, thinking. Thinking and listening to the breeze that comes down from the Rockies. The air here is mountain air, not prarie air, so there's a cool nip and crispness about it. It's warm out, but you know that fall is on its way.

Just across the street is the graveyard where my granddad is buried. I visited him for a brief time before we left. My grandpa was and is something special to me, but that relationship is not something I'm going to discuss here.

Needless to say though, this is a place of peace. It's impossible to describe, and impossible to defile.