I spent the majority of my high school years with dirt in my hair, bruises up and down my legs, and chronically sore muscles.

No, I wasn't abused, nor did I have some mysterious illness. I was a softball player through and through.

Thirty hours a week I practiced, played, and sweated. From travel ball to high school softball, to coaching and umpiring, I was in love.

Teammates Casey Jacob, Vanessa Swisher, and I after a win

Choosing academics over athletics, I opted to attend a school that doesn't offer softball. I thought I wouldn't miss it but I was wrong.

It's not as much the long hours of practice or sometimes grueling tournaments, I miss my family. I miss the community of people I'd found who shared a singular focus. I miss the hours every week with my best friends.

My teammates simultaneously annoyed me to death and completely inspired me. We laughed and joked, called each other names, gossiped, got in fights, got over them, and generally had a grand time.

Teammate Danielle Cornejo and I between games

We won together and lost together, stayed in hotels together and became more than friends. We were sisters; a family really. We had each other's back through the ups and the downs, we forgave mistakes and applauded every achievement. From scrimmages to national tournaments, strikeouts to home-runs, we were there for each other.

The three OC Nighthawk softball teams together

Without my teams, I feel a void in my life. My life lacks the sense of sisterhood and air of hilarity afforded by them. I had the opportunity to return to speak to my former high school team as an alumni and I was instantly thrown into a moment of nostalgia when I saw the laughter and outspoken bond between them.

Pranking the 18u team with the OC Nighthawks

For those of you still playing, take a moment to appreciate what you have. They'll be gone before you know it. Take notice of the little moments, they're the ones that matter the most.