‘I hate her, she’s the worst,’ thought Max as slammed his bedroom door in fury at his mother. ” Why does she accuse me of things I don’t do? ” Suddenly, something dropped onto Max’s head. It was a baseball glove, his dad’s baseball glove. There was a dent in it. A faint memory over-took him. It was as if his mind was like a puzzle, fitting pieces of memory together…
It was a summers afternoon, Max’s dad, Karl, had bought him a baseball and baseball glove. They played for hours and hours, until, Max asked for a fast throw. It came at a break-neck speed that made such an impact on the glove and actually dented the glove.
Max’s mind fast forward to the time of the accident. It was three 0’clock in the morning and the phone rang (a phone ringing at three 0’clock in the morning, that can’t be good!) It was the police. They had received news that Max’s dad was in hospital.
They drove as fast as they could to St James’ hospital. There they saw him lying in the hospital bed, eyes closed and wearing an oxygen mask. They hoped that he was asleep. The came in through the door and said that he’ll be alright.
However, soon after they left the hospital, something malfunctioned causing him to have very little oxygen. A few minutes later the hospital Rang Max’s mum to tell her what had happened to Max’s dad. It was even harder to tell Max what had happened.
Suddenly, in reality, a gentle arm rested on Max’s shoulder as a tears trickled down his cheek. ” Life is not the same without your father around.”