I recently stood in the middle of a madhouse. Kids in electric-orange socks, like a too-bright dystopian fantasy, sprinted past me in every direction. Adults in coordinating electric-orange T-shirts stood guard. All that was missing was the heavy arm of an unseen totalitarian regime. Only, it wasn't exactly missing.
I looked up and saw a little boy in a red hoodie playing by himself in the grass of the outfield; he must have been all of 4-years-old. I watched him play for a few moments; he appeared to be off in his own world. The site of him was heart-warming and yet, I was also crushed by the carefree nature of his joyful abandon.