The Slightest Glimmer

The only thing worse than having COVID (and dying) is passing it along to your spouse. The silver lining so far is that Michele’s case has been “mild” to my “moderate.” In other words, the symptoms haven’t been so severe that she’s threatening to kill me, which would require her having the energy to get off the couch. And I don’t see that happening anytime soon. That being the case, we ordered out for dinner last night (don’t worry, I’m no longer contagious), a place in Oak Park, good hamburger, Goldilocks’ perfect size. I parked across from a storefront which has turned into a kind of pop-up field house for a local travel softball team. They looked to be 14u. There were five girls, all in a line, doing a pitching drill with their coach (seated on an upturned plastic bucket, of course). Throw a pitch, go to the back of the line. Repeat. There, on a cold Sunday night in December, COVID all around, I felt sudden surge of hope, however fleeting. If those kids and their coach saw fit to practice, with the support of everyone’s parents, maybe things will go back to normal. I mean, assuming the Bears breaking their six-game losing streak isn’t a sign of end times, that is.