April 9, 2004
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Sitting, Waiting for Spring
I've been waiting for spring for so damn long. The old ball field knows my impatience, tastes my hunger.
The local High School had a game here the other day. The ground is still fairly hard and the turf has not really grown in yet. The parents and spectators watched the game with gloved hands and you could tell by their smiles they imagined the warmer weather was here when it definitely was not.
The field is at the end of my driveway off of a short street. The side street is the only close parking. Both sides packed with SUVs making entering and exiting my house a real pain; I didn't care. Like the change of the season this two is part of the cycle, the spring ritual begins.
The morning after the game, the first of the season, I found this old chair next to the bench. Broken backed, missing spindles, out of place in the dirt next to the field, it seemed to be the perfect symbol of endurance. Waiting the long cold winter, suffering the discomforts of close darkness we have the perpetual chair. Here we will sit and prop up our feet, look out at the greening grass, smell the moist earth and thank God for another moment in the sun.
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