The Magical Baseball Mitt

Long ago, when Fiorella was a youngling, her parents moved from Ohio to Texas, which, of course, cut her her off from the school the was accustomed to
     There was a school waiting for her in Waco, of course, but she didn't understand any of the games they kids played at recess. At home in Akron, she had been free to use the swings or the sliding board or the monkey bars (which she did not) or run around the large playground and make up games with the other boys and girls. At her new school, the boys and girls were sent out on separate playgrounds, given a bat and soft ball or, at a change in the seasons, a kickball, and after a month or two, a jump rope for the girls and a football for the boys.
    You can guess who was at the end of the line when it came to choosing teams. Yep, there was Fio, the tallest girl in her class, an athletic outcast. And no wonder, the couldn't hit or catch a ball, get her timing right for jump rope, or whack a kickball out of the park.
    And things didn't get any better in junior high when recess was called P.E. and held inside. But suddenly, in high school, Fiorella was able to not only whack balls out of the park, but catch, actually CATCH, a ball thrown to her. Yep, she played second base, occasionally first, and it was all due to her father's magical baseball mitt.
     Dad was a genuine athlete--baseball and football in school, golfing, bowling, and tennis as an adult, but in his closet was his old baseball mitt, and it changed Fiorella's life. With that mitt on her hand, she could actually catch balls because, as she's finally figured out, she didn't have to worry about it stinging her hand.
    Fio would like to tell you she still has the mitt, but she left it on the high school playground one day and never saw it again, despite making constant inquiries about a leather glove that had her name, address, city, state, and planet written on it in black ink.