At my grandparent’s house it’s always dry. Hot and cold and dry, but always dry. Late October, one weekend my family drove to their house in the country. A small house, in the country with cows and open fields and lots and lots of trees. It takes a long time to get there. Are we there yet?, I asked alone in the back of our car, my dad in the driver seat and my mom in the other. Almost, my dad said again. On the way I saw landmarks, like the tree that looks like it will fall any second if you stare at it long enough, and the old rusty run down store that has seen many smiling faces. I don’t know why we went up there, only to see their faces and say hi. It’s too long of a dive just to say hi. At my grandparent’s house there’s two open fields where Papa said Cows used to run around, eat grass and jump the fence out back. I didn’t believe him because there was no cows and the grass was all brown and dry. Always dry, so dry you get grass in your shoes before you step out of the car. My dad found an old ball and bat and glove that he just to play with when he was a kid. It must have been a long time ago, the glove felt as old as granny looked when I put it on my hand. I think my dad wanted a son. A son to play ball with. I am the only child and I’m a girl. But I tried, to play ball. That’s all that matters is that you try, right. I mean I did, but I was no good at it. The ball rolled better by itself than when I tried to throw it. It was cold outside,but not too cold because I didn’t need a jacket but a stocking hat. My granny yelled from the porch, That baby needs a stocking cap on before she catches a cold. I found my white and red hat in the car and put it on. It cover half of my face when my dad pulled it down to make me mad. Ather I got over his unfunny humor he told me to stand over there and throw the ball. My dad walked a few steps back and turned around with the bat that was too small for his body. It was a bat that I would use to play softball. I raised my arm and throw the ball in the space between my dad and the field five feet next to him. I threw it, but it was too short for him to hit it. Try again, he said tossing the ball back to me. So I tried again and again and again, but they all ended up the same. Some on the ground rolling to his feet, some dangerously close to the house and some even over his head, don’t know how I managed to do that but I did. After awhile I started to throw the ball well enough so my dad could hit it. This went on for ten or even thirty minutes. I can’t tell time very well yet, but I’m learning in school. We went to my grandparents house just to say hi, and to see them just because we can.