By Scott Thomas Outlar

When I was a child
my Dad
would take me
to the baseball card store
at Green’s Corner
off Jimmy Carter Blvd.
It seemed like such
a long journey,
a fun trip,
a special occasion.
The store was on the
second floor
of a strip mall.
I lost five dollars
at two different times
in that same store,
which seems almost impossible,
yet it is true.
I loved collecting cards
with my Dad.
We spent countless hours together –
buying the packs, sitting on the floor,
opening them, organizing each card by number,
talking about the different players and teams.
My Dad died earlier this year,
so it was just me and Mom
on Thanksgiving. We drove
past where the card store
used to be years ago.
Older now, I realize
it’s not actually that far away,
only a few miles
from the house,
and it doesn’t feel
like such a special trip anymore.


Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, live events, and books can be found. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Scott was a recipient of the 2017 Setu Magazine Award for Excellence in the field of literature. His words has been translated into Albanian, Afrikaans, Persian, Serbian, and Italian.

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