An effort was put forth. I tell myself that too.
In less than 48 hours, I'll be arriving at a newly constructed, open and operational single-A minor league ballpark more than 900 miles away. A black-haired girl will seat me in a location he can see. When we meet again, our lives will change. Its become something of a norm, my life fluctuating at his whim.
We've talked ad nauseum about a dog. He's got his vision. I've got mine, and somewhere they overlap in the way of a border collie mutt. "I'll call him Stinky until it sticks." I know the dog will love him more. So does he. Just the thought of it. Hot, sticky summer. "Our" dog. Kentucky. Baseball. I can see myself sitting on the floor with my head on his knee. As loyal as our dog. As predictable as his dining recommendations.