Anniversaries

The other day I dreamt that my daughter was hitting leadoff—in a baseball game; she looked to be in eighth grade.  Anyway, Clare kept fouling off pitches, which is pretty much what she did in real life.  I learned to take refuge in the time between pitches.  I spent close to an eternity getting through 0-2 counts.  As for the dream, Clare kept swinging and swinging, to the point it had to be irritating the pitcher while impressing everyone who was watching.  A coach walked up to me, a smile on his face, and….I woke up.

 

Today is my wedding anniversary, notable in and of itself for my wife’s bullheaded masochism, thirty-nine years and counting.  Eight of those years were tied up with softball.  Clare’s first varsity game ever—the first game of the season freshman year of high school—fell on our anniversary; Clare drove in three runs.  She would have played on our anniversary sophomore year, but it snowed.  She homered on our anniversary both senior year and freshman year at Elmhurst.  That was in Florida and her first-ever college homerun.   

 

Our next anniversary, an RBI single; the one after that, two for four with a double and two RBIs; and the one after that, two doubles in two games, part of a three-hit day with four runs scored and an RBI.  On anniversaries, we remember and give thanks.  We even look to the future, or try.