Walsh Family Universe V2

The week before Thanksgiving, Shannon made an announcement during breakfast. "Your siblings are all coming to watch your game on Sunday. Then we're having early Thanksgiving dinner at home."

Ash's spoon paused halfway to his mouth. "Why?"

"Because it's almost Thanksgiving, and because they want to see you play." Shannon wiped a drop of oatmeal from his chin. "Claire especially asked if she could come watch. She's very excited to see you in action."

"It's just T-ball."

"It's your T-ball game. That's special." Shannon smiled. "Everyone's proud of you for being on a team and playing sports. They want to support you."

Ash returned to his oatmeal, his stomach tight with anxiety. His whole family watching him play toddler baseball. Seeing him run bases and swing a plastic bat and interact with other two-year-olds like he was one of them.

Evidence of how completely he'd adapted. How fully he'd become Noam.

Sunday morning arrived cold and crisp, proper November weather. Shannon dressed Ash in his Little Sluggers shirt—red with a baseball logo—and sweatpants. Put his small baseball cap on his head.

"There's my athlete!" Patrick said, appearing in the nursery doorway. "Ready for the big game?"

"My whole family is going to be there."

"I know! Isn't that great?" Patrick lifted him up. "They're all going to see how good you've gotten. Three weeks ago you could barely hit the ball. Now you're a real player."

At the field, Ash saw them immediately. Claire, very pregnant now, sitting on a folding chair Marcus's dad had brought over. Cathy standing beside her. Declan with his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable but present. Even Eden—home from college for the holiday—standing slightly apart but watching intently.

Shannon waved them over. "You made it! Thank you for coming!"

"Wouldn't miss it," Claire said, struggling to stand and then giving up, just reaching out to squeeze Ash's hand. "Hey, slugger. Ready to show us what you've got?"

Ash nodded mutely.

"He's been doing so well," Shannon gushed. "Wait until you see him run the bases. He's so fast now!"

Coach Mike called the team together for warm-ups. Patrick jogged over with Ash, joining the other parent-coaches on the field.

Ash went through the motions—jumping jacks, stretches, practice swings. But he was hyperaware of his siblings watching from the sideline. Eden with her arms crossed, face unreadable. Declan shifting his weight, checking his phone. Cathy smiling encouragingly. Claire beaming like this was the most normal thing in the world.

The game started. Ash's team was up to bat first. He wasn't in the first rotation, so he stood in the "on-deck" area with Emma and two other kids, waiting his turn.

"Is that your family?" Emma asked, pointing at the cluster of Walshes.

"Yeah."

"You have a lot of family! I only have Mommy and Daddy and baby Jake." Emma waved at her parents, who waved back. "Your family came to watch you play! That's nice."

"Yeah."

When Ash's turn came to bat, Patrick positioned him at the tee, helped adjust his grip. "Your family is watching. Show them what you can do, buddy."

Ash swung. Connected solidly. The ball rolled into the outfield.

"Run!" Patrick yelled. "Go, go, go!"

Ash ran to first base. Made it easily. Kept running when the next kid hit—second base, third base, heading for home.

"Slide!" Coach Mike called, even though sliding was optional and most kids just ran through.

Ash did what he'd been practicing—dropped to his bottom and slid the last few feet into home plate.

"SAFE!" Coach Mike blew his whistle. "Excellent slide, Noam!"

From the sideline, he heard his family cheering. Claire's voice the loudest: "YEAH, NOAM! THAT WAS AMAZING!"

Patrick scooped him up, spun him around. "Perfect! That was perfect, buddy! Did you hear your family cheering?"

Ash nodded, face hot, not sure if he was embarrassed or pleased or both.

The game continued. Ash played field for a few innings—caught one ball (the other team celebrated anyway because everyone was supposed to cheer for everyone). Batted again in the fourth inning—another solid hit, another run home.

By the final inning, he'd stopped being quite so aware of his siblings watching. Just played. Ran when he was supposed to run. Caught when the ball came near him. Participated like any other kid on the field.

When Coach Mike called the end of the game and handed out the snack (juice boxes and graham crackers), Ash's family approached.

"That was incredible!" Cathy said, crouching down to his level. "You're really good at this!"

"I'm not that good."

"Are you kidding? That slide into home was perfect. Like a real baseball player." Cathy ruffled his hair. "I'm impressed."

Eden hung back, but when Ash looked at her, she offered a small smile. "You looked like you were having fun out there."

"I guess."

"It's okay to have fun," Eden said quietly. "Even with everything. It's okay."

Claire struggled up from her chair—Declan had to help her—and waddled over. "My little brother the athlete! Who would have thought?" She patted his head, her belly making it hard to bend down. "I'm proud of you."

"It's just T-ball."

"It's not just anything. You're out here, playing, being part of a team. That's huge." Claire's eyes were suspiciously shiny. "You're doing so well."

Patrick was talking with the other parents nearby, gesturing proudly toward Ash. Shannon was chatting with Emma's mom, making plans for another playdate.

"Ready to go home?" Patrick called over. "We've got Thanksgiving dinner to prepare!"

The house smelled like turkey and stuffing when they arrived home. Shannon had prepared most of it the day before, just needed to warm things and finish the sides.

"Noam, why don't you go play while we finish dinner?" Shannon suggested. "It'll be about an hour."

Ash went to the living room where his toys were. His siblings followed, settling on the couch and chairs while he sat at his little table with blocks.

For a few minutes, there was awkward silence. Ash built a tower. His siblings watched. Finally Cathy spoke.

"So... do you like T-ball?"

"It's okay."

"You looked like you liked it. You were really into it out there."

Ash placed another block. "I guess I do. A little."

"That's good," Cathy said. "It's good that you have activities. Things you enjoy."

"Do you have other friends?" Claire asked. "Besides Emma?"

"Marcus. From swimming."

"You're doing swimming too?" Declan spoke for the first time. "That's... that's a lot of activities."

"Mommy and Me on Wednesdays. T-ball on weekends." Ash's hands moved automatically, building. "And Miss Jessica comes on Tuesdays."

"Who's Miss Jessica?" Eden asked.

"Play therapist." Ash knocked over his tower, started rebuilding. "She helps me play."

Another silence. Then Claire: "Are you happy?"

Ash's hands stilled. "What?"

"Are you happy? Like, in general. With everything." Claire shifted in her chair, one hand on her belly. "You seem different than a few weeks ago. Less angry. I'm just wondering if you're... okay."

Ash thought about the question. Was he happy?

He played T-ball twice a week and liked it. Went swimming and splashed with Marcus. Built block zoos with Claire and played house with Emma. Got tossed in the air by Patrick and tickled by Shannon. Ate chocolate chips and received participation ribbons.

Had stopped fighting every moment. Had stopped hating every second.

But happy?

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm not unhappy all the time anymore. But I don't know if that's the same as happy."

"That's fair," Cathy said softly. "That's a really honest answer."

Eden came over and sat on the floor near his table. Not crowding, just closer. "Can I play blocks with you?"

Ash nodded.

Eden picked up some blocks and started building beside him. They worked in silence for a few minutes, constructing separate towers that gradually became one connected structure.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited much," Eden said quietly. "It's been hard to know what to say. What to do."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay. You're my brother and I've been avoiding you because this whole situation makes me uncomfortable." Eden connected another block. "But watching you today—seeing you play, seeing you with those other kids—you seemed okay. Not just pretending to be okay. Actually okay."

"Maybe I am. Sometimes."

"That's good. That's really good." Eden's voice caught slightly. "I've been so worried that you were miserable every second. That this was torture."

"It was torture. At first." Ash placed a block carefully on top of Eden's section. "Now it's just... my life. I don't know how else to explain it."

Declan moved to sit on the floor too, awkward but trying. "Do you still remember everything? From before?"

"Yeah. All of it."

"Does it feel real? Or does it feel like a long time ago?"

Ash thought about his apartment. His art. His friends. Using heroin. The courtroom. It all felt distant now. Not gone, but far away. Like memories from someone else's life.

"It feels like a long time ago," he admitted. "Even though it's only been like two months."

"Seven weeks," Claire corrected. "Seven weeks since the procedure."

Seven weeks. Forty-nine days. It felt like longer. Felt like he'd been Noam for months. Years.

"Dinner's ready!" Shannon called from the dining room.

They moved to the table—the adults at the dining table, Ash in his high chair at the end. But Patrick had positioned it close enough that he was part of the group, not separated.

The table was full: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, rolls. A proper Thanksgiving feast even though it was a few days early.

Shannon cut Ash's food into small pieces, put it on his tray with a spoon. He'd gotten good enough to feed himself for family dinners now, though she still helped with difficult items.

"Should we go around and say what we're thankful for?" Shannon suggested.

"Mom, we're not pilgrims," Declan protested.

"Humor me. I'll start." Shannon looked around the table. "I'm thankful that we're all together. That everyone is healthy and safe and here."

"I'm thankful for this little one," Claire said, hand on her belly. "And for family who supports me."

"I'm thankful for my job and my apartment," Cathy said. "And for having everyone together today."

"I'm thankful for... I don't know, modern medicine I guess," Declan said awkwardly. "And family."

"I'm thankful to be home from school," Eden said. "And to see everyone."

"I'm thankful for my son," Patrick said, his voice warm. "For his progress and his effort and watching him play baseball today."

Everyone looked at Ash. He swallowed a piece of turkey, aware of all eyes on him.

"I'm thankful for..." He thought about it. What was he thankful for? "For T-ball. And swimming. And chocolate chips."

Claire laughed, but it wasn't mean. "Those are good things to be thankful for."

"And for my family," Ash added. "For coming to my game."

"We'll come to more games if you want," Cathy said. "If it's okay with Mom and Dad."

"Of course it's okay," Shannon said. "You're all welcome anytime."

The meal continued with normal conversation. Claire talked about baby preparations—the nursery was almost done, they'd picked a name but weren't sharing yet. Cathy shared office stories. Eden talked about her classes. Declan mentioned maybe taking a trip after the holidays.

Normal family dinner conversation. With Ash eating cut-up food from his high chair tray, participating when addressed, mostly just listening and eating.

Being included. Being part of the family. Not as Ash who needed intervention, not as the problem child, not as the addict who'd disappointed everyone.

But as Noam. The two-year-old who played T-ball and had friends and was making progress.

After dinner, Shannon brought out pie—pumpkin and apple. She gave Ash a small piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream, feeding him bites because it was too messy for him to manage alone.

"Good?" she asked after each bite.

"Yeah."

When dinner ended, his siblings lingered. Playing with Ash on the floor, looking at his participation ribbon, asking about swimming and Miss Jessica and his upcoming games.

Treating him like family. Like their little brother. Like it was natural for him to be two years old and for them to play blocks with him and ask about his toddler activities.

Like this was just how things were now.

Finally, one by one, they left. Hugs all around. Promises to visit again soon. Claire especially making Shannon promise to send pictures from his next game.

"You did great today," Eden whispered when she hugged him goodbye. "I'm proud of you."

After everyone left, Shannon gave Ash his bath. Patrick came in to supervise, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

"You had a big day," Patrick said. "Big game, whole family watching, Thanksgiving dinner. That's a lot for a little guy."

"I'm tired."

"I bet. But you did wonderfully. Your family was so impressed with how well you're doing."

In pajamas, in the crib, door cracked and mobile playing, Ash thought about the day.

His whole family watching him slide into home plate. Cheering for him. Claire saying she was proud. Eden playing blocks. Everyone treating it as normal that he was on a toddler T-ball team.

Thanksgiving dinner where he'd said he was thankful for T-ball and swimming and chocolate chips. Where he'd been included, part of the family, not separated or othered.

Where his siblings had seen him play and accepted it. Had made peace with who he was now.

Had stopped grieving for Ash and started loving Noam.

"My name is Ash," he whispered. But the words felt even more hollow than usual tonight.

Today he'd been Noam. Had played T-ball well enough to make his family proud. Had participated in Thanksgiving dinner and said things that were true—he was thankful for T-ball and swimming. Those were real parts of his life now that brought him something close to happiness.

Had siblings who wanted to come to his future games. Who played blocks with him. Who told him they were proud of him for being part of a team.

Five thousand seven hundred and fifty-two days to go.

But today hadn't been about counting down. Today had been about playing well. About sliding into home. About his family cheering.

About being thankful for the small pleasures in his life: sports and swimming and chocolate chips and family who loved him.

About being Noam at Thanksgiving. Noam on the T-ball field. Noam in his crib with his participation ribbon on the wall.

Just Noam.

Not Ash pretending to be Noam. Not Ash trapped in Noam's body. Not Ash counting down until he could be Ash again.

Just Noam. Living his life. Playing his games. Being part of his family.

And somewhere in the middle of this day—somewhere between the cheer when he slid into home and the moment Eden told him she was proud—Ash realized he'd stopped noticing the difference.

Stopped feeling like he was performing Noam and started just being him.

The thought should have terrified him.

But he was too tired.

Too content from a good game and a full belly and family who'd cheered for him.

Too comfortable in his crib to feel anything but sleepy satisfaction.

Tomorrow was Monday. Swimming on Wednesday. T-ball on Saturday.

Emma might call for a playdate. Marcus might splash him at swim class. Miss Jessica would bring new toys.

And his family might come to another game. Might cheer again. Might play blocks with him again.

And Ash—Noam—whoever he was now—would participate.

Would play.

Would be thankful for the simple pleasures in his toddler life.

Because that's who he'd become.

Someone who slid into home and heard his family cheer and felt proud.

Someone who had friends and activities and things he enjoyed.

Someone who said "I'm thankful for T-ball" and meant it.

Someone named Noam.

And Ash—whoever that had been—was just a name he whispered in the dark now.

A ritual without meaning.

A memory that felt like someone else's life.

He closed his eyes.

And dreamed of sliding into home plate while everyone cheered.

Over and over.

The perfect slide.

The perfect game.

The perfect life.

For a two-year-old named Noam who was exactly where he belonged.