The Last Memory I have Of My Father (4th of July Weekend 2002)

The sun glared down over tiny dots on the baseball field. We were sitting so high that our noses almost bled. On the bleacher in front of us, a bald man was getting a devilish kiss from the sun. You could hear the roar of anticipation coming from every voice. The section I was in cheered for the Mariners. My eyes, unprotected by the grace of sunglasses, squinted as one of the players danced in a homerun slide. I stood up and waved my arms as if they were wet noodles and sat back down again. I then watched the same motion being repeated all around my side of the stadium. It was the wave. I could taste the sweat coming off overheated bodies. My mouth hungered for water. I felt the seat beside me be filled once again. He smelled of beer and had a goofy happy grin on his face. I then felt a tan uncovered muscled arm wrap around my gaunt shoulders. I smiled up at his handsome face. I knew at that moment that this was going to be the best day of my life. I knew that even though the air smelled of sticky caramel popcorn, that this was a moment in life that was worth treasuring. When the game ended I took one last look at the cement stairs, metal bleachers, and all of the business sponsor signs that decorated the place. The scoreboard was so big I felt I could touch it. There were plastic green chairs in every section that wasn’t our own. I looked to the field, the fake green grass, with a sand shaped diamond and soaked it all in. I wanted to remember everything. My father nudged me and told me it was time go. I followed him as we left the stadium, tripping on garbage as I went.

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