Four weeks from today,
I walk my daughter down the aisle of the same church where she was baptized,
received her First Holy Communion and Confirmation and gave the eighth-grade
graduation speech. It all puts me in a
reflective mood.
I try not to live in
the past for fear of being trapped there, but the memories keep intruding
anyhow: the first time I pitched to
Clare, our first ballgame, her first homeruns (baseball before softball). The danger is forcing her to relive those
moments with and for me; that’s just depressing and a sure way to keep her from
dropping in to visit the old man. Best
to keep busy and stay focused on what lies ahead rather than behind.
If only the White Sox
were worth watching.
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