The Collection

By Angie Bromeland

“Try not to conk your head. It’s a low ceiling,” Uncle Jamal called after Freddy.

“Don’t worry,” Freddy called back.

There was always an ebb and flow to fads in the neighborhood. These days, it was all about baseball cards. Freddy had a few, but when he began to beg for more, his mom told him to see Uncle Jamal’s collection. Uncle Jamal lived just down the street, so Freddy wasted no time running over, even though it had begun to sprinkle outside.

“I didn’t peg your as a collector,” Uncle Jamal had said when Freddy arrived. “But it’ll be good to see the guys again.” Then he told Freddy exactly where to find the box of cards tucked away in the cellar.

Now, Freddy held the flashlight Uncle Jamal had handed  him, and brushed away cobwebs.

“I think I found them!” Freddy called.

“Is it a flat white box?” Uncle Jamal called back.

“Yeah, and it weighs a ton!”

“That’s it,” Uncle Jamal laughed.

Freddy held the flashlight between his teeth. He lugged the heavy box out of the cellar.

“Phew! You must have a ton of cards in here!” Freddy said.

“Yeah, something like that,” Uncle Jamal said with a wink. “Let’s go check it out.”

Upstairs, they spread out on the floor and sifted through the rows of baseball cards. The rain was falling harder outside.

“Gosh, you took good care of these. No kinks or wrinkles or anything,” Freddy said. Uncle Jamal nodded, distracted by the cards in front of him. Mostly, the players on the cards were strangers to Freddy. But he did recognize some names, like Kirby Puckett and Bo Jackson. Excitement bubbled up inside Freddy. He already liked his uncle so much, but somehow, Freddy could tell already that this new hobby was going to pull them even closer together.