I don't know if you remember how much we use to go play tennis at Woodlawn Park but I know I liked it very much. As a matter of fact, Dad use to play tennis with us a lot and I remember how one time I hit that tennis ball so hard that I sent my racquet flying across the net, too. It was so funny. Dad and I busted out in laughter that we just couldn't stop laughing. I can see that racquet flying really, really high and away and thinking to myself, "I shouldn't have done that!". Dad saw how much I enjoyed playing with him that he signed me up for tennis lessons at San Pedro Park. My first class was scheduled for June 29, 1975, that same Saturday that you disappeared from the Ayala family. Right before we left for Matagorda Beach after the phone call, I folded the little pink tennis outfit I was supposed to wear to my first tennis lesson and placed it in my dresser drawer. Seeing it just brought back the saddest memory for me.
This wasn't the only thing I withdrew from after you disappeared but also the guitar lessons, the piano lessons, the flute lessons and the clarinet lessons. It was as if the music died in me the day you became missing.
A few years ago, when I picked up the guitar to play at the church where I was teaching, I became overwhelmed because the music we were playing was from the '70's and it was music you and I use to sing to when we attended mass at Little Flower Church where we attended school.
