When I woke up, I noticed the sun, subdued and wan. I figured it had been so long since the sun last shined it had forgotten how to wow us, to make us squint in the light. The streets were still wet and were waiting for a bit of warmth to dry three days of rain, and I was hopeful the sun could finally hold sway. After getting the papers, I stood outside to check my garden. Green shoots are everywhere. They are the start of my spring bulbs finally growing and budding. Gracie has been in the yard most of the morning. She is my barometer. The warmer the weather the longer she is out.
When I was a kid, this was a bicycle day, a spring jacket sort of day. It was freedom from layers of clothing and from looking wistfully out the picture window. It was time to fly my bike down the hill with my hair blowing and my arms raised in a funny sort of triumph. It was time to pedal as fast as I could hoping to leave winter behind me.
I loved riding all over town on a sunny Saturday. Sometimes I’d bring lunch and put it in my bike’s big front basket. Once in a while I’d hit a bump and my lunch bag would bounce in the basket. Sometimes it bounced out. I usually brought Oreos for dessert. They were the cookies of choice for all of us. I remember my sisters would eat the middle and give the dog the rest. My method was a bit different. I’d open the Oreo, eat the plain side then the filling then the other side with streaks of filling still left.
Last night I watched the Sox beat the Yankees in a game which seemed interminable. It lasted 19 innings, 6 hours and 49 minutes, and is now the longest game in Red Sox history. I’d tell myself I’m going to bed after this inning, but I just couldn’t bring myself to turn off the TV. What if I miss the winning run after all this time? Both teams were horrible last year. The Yanks didn’t make the playoffs and the Sox were last, but they seem to play each other as if a championship is on the line. During extra innings, when a Sox player got on base, I’d beg for someone to hit him in so I could go to bed. Finally a Mookie Betts sacrifice fly knocked in the winning run. I cheered then held my breath during the bottom half of the inning. The Yanks didn’t score so I let the dog out, waited for her to come in, turned off the lights and went to bed.
