Coming “Home”
This summer we found ourselves back at Dodger Stadium. Back at the place where we both first fell in love with the game many years ago. Him, as a little boy, trips with his dad to Dodger Stadium to cheer for the boys in blue. Me, a little later, with my family, with my girlfriends, cheering for the hometown team.
Not Quite Yet
A few weeks ago, I suggested we head to see the wildflowers in the Antelope Valley. The California poppies bloom across the hills of the desert each spring, leaving the world blanketed in orange. I had never been out that way, Kels hadn’t been since he was a child. He was sure we were too early for the blooms, but I was itching for adventure, so we packed into the car and off we went.
Beauty of And
I’ve been listening to country music lately.
For the last six years, country music was the soundtrack of my summer. It signaled baseball fields and long backroad drives and humidity and fireflies. I usually had my pick of at least 5 stations, as country was the local genre-of-choice nearly everywhere Kels played and coached baseball.
