Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Eight
I find another white oxford and a pair of thick socks. I wonder if I should buy a carton of wood for the fireplace.
8:30 snuck up on me real quick.
Numb fingers again.
From my seat in the upper corner of the stands, I spot someone drinking coffee out of the camping mug I made for donors and gave to volunteers. How cool to see someone using it out in the wild.
I had somehow forgotten how much of a big deal this day is. I watch as the tiny tots run across the field and see the names of teams past: Mustangs, Red Sox, Eagles, Crushers. This is the last year.
She turns around and asks me if I’m the basketball coach. She introduces me to her daughter, who is playing on the 4th-grade team I’ll be helping this spring. I repeat their names in my head so that I don’t forget. The little girl and I both have A names.
We say we want the car and he offers to buy us lunch while he gets the title. He owns the cafe in the square where Jeannette and I would eat lunch before heading to Westerbeck Ranch. I miss the ranch. I don’t want to buy a car. I do want another retreat.
I don’t know any of these parents.
Can I make this fun?
“Aren’t you the parents of that superstar football player?” We laugh.
So interesting to watch these plays—musicals that I watched as a child—with the understanding I have now as an adult.
