When I was growing up my friends and I played baseball at an old abandoned field outside of town. The field now is an over populated loud subdivision. We use to race to the field after school and split up into teams as soon as we got there. Now we don't go to the old field anymore. We played hundreds of games over the years. The field was a place of hopes and dreams to all of us who graced its hallowed diamond.

We all loved the cubs and Dave Kingman at the time was the home run hitter that we all wanted to be. My cousin would say "and now stepping up to the plate Dave Kingman" when I would approach the home plate. The pressure was

Those were the best days of my life. All things must come to an end I suppose. The old field is now an over populated subdivision. So many dreams were born under these houses and streets. I wonder if the people here can feel the joy we had in this place? Can they smell the freshly trampled grass? Do they hear the chanting antics of the outfield "hey batter swing"? I wonder if anyone who lives here has ever found traces of our epic games at the diamond?

I stood and watched the people go in and out of their houses. Some people were cutting the grass and the aroma of fresh cut grass put a smile on my face. It reminded me of the old baseball field it too smelled of grass. I started to get tingly and butterflies were dancing around in my stomach just like it was when I was a chil

Some common words found in the essay are:
Dave Kingman, Baseball Field, baseball field, baseball field smelled, home plate, aroma fresh, home run, field populated, field smelled, abandoned field, dave kingman,
Approximate Word count = 531
Approximate Pages = 2 (250 words per page double spaced)