By the time you read this I’ll at least be on my way, or maybe already there at the game.
But this morning I feel almost like I did on all those Christmas Eves, lying in bed with my cousins, listening to the sounds of adults putting our toys together while we reasoned quite logically that Santa Claus wasn’t real because it just didn’t make sense for reindeer to fly. We’d waited for what seemed an eternity, wondering if it would ever really get here, and now it was time. Time for the best day of the whole year to a kid.
Yeah, it kinda feels like that right now.
Because today I’m doing something that I’ve been waiting to do since October, back when I discovered baseball, remember? I have a friend who’s a rabid baseball fan and he kept telling me all during the World Series while I was recovering from my head injury, that by the time Opening Day for the Rangers rolled around, I’d be well enough to go. There were days, weeks, months that I didn’t believe that. I wondered if I’d ever be able to just turn the volume up on the television or go to the grocery store, let alone sit in the middle of The Ballpark with all that noise!
Somehow imagining being able to do that gave me something to shoot for in the spring. Something to hope for. And hope is a powerful thing.
Maybe reindeer really can fly.