My ticket game in the village field

Assalamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barkatuhu Dear friends, how are you all? I hope you are all well. I am also well by the infinite mercy of Allah. Today I will share some words about my games in the village field.

After school or after work, whenever I have some time, my mind becomes restless. I don't like the crowd of bricks and wood in the city, so I come straight to our village field. Of course, what is meant by field is not right—it is a lot of empty land, with green vines and leaves around it and rice fields a little further away. This is where my real peace lies.
Today, I came with a bat and ball in my hand. A yellow tennis ball and my old wooden bat—these are my playing equipment. The handle of the bat is a little old, the black grip on the red one can still be held firmly.

Whenever I see the sticker with S.H. written on the wood, I feel a kind of strength. It is not just a game, it is like my friend.
I don't know how many afternoons and evenings have passed playing in this field. The ground here is uneven, sometimes muddy, sometimes dry grass, and sometimes covered with weeds. But what does that mean? The fun of playing in this random place is different. When I swing the bat hard, there is a sweet sound and the ball bounces off towards a bush in the distance. Sometimes I bowl myself, sometimes I bat myself—it's like the whole team alone.

In fact, the game is not just a game. It's like a little breath of relief. Standing in the middle of this greenery, with the bat in my hand, when I look at the sky, all my worries go away. I don't remember the noise of the city or the hustle and bustle of life. I just feel that this moment is mine, this game is mine. These small moments of joy are what make life beautiful. I will continue playing as long as I can—with this promise in my mind, I throw the ball high again. The game continues.