So much depends upon a balding tennis ball

I’ve recently rediscovered bouncing. Tennis balls, rubber balls, golf balls, toy balls – whatever bounces and fits in my hand, I bounce it, oh how I do.

It’s one of the joys we take for granted because it’s commonly available to all, and since it’s so simple, we’re expected to outgrow it. Maybe there is a time to put away childish things, but not yet.

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