I’ve typed this post several times. I’ve gone into great detail, but in the end I realized that there aren’t enough words that can really tell this story with the feeling that is deserved. So I’ve opted to keep it simple and keep the bigger parts to myself.
I’m going to the World Series. I’m going to game 7 of the WORLD SERIES. THE WORLD SERIES. And my tickets are awesome.
I'm beyond excited, thrilled, sick-to-my-stomach nervous, crazy jittery and way, way, over the top ready to go.
I’m going with my youngest sister as a gift from my dad.
And here’s where I can’t explain the whole sitch without bawling, so I won’t. But because of many reasons, like money and family and love, and, and, and…this gift was reluctantly accepted, not for the least of which I just wish my mom and dad were going.
But here’s the deal, on Monday, when my dad called me to let me know his intention, and I was pushing back, he reminded me what he’s been trying to drive into his kids from day one:
Life is just a succession of moments. Sometimes the BIG moments just land in your lap and care little about the way you’ve illusioned yourself into thinking you’re in control. And, sometimes, those BIG moments are ones that you have to TAKE FOR YOURSELF.
So he asked me to take the moment.
And, being the dutiful daughter that I am, I will.
Game 7 people. World Series. So much amazing AND I WILL BE THERE. I can’t promise I won’t cry though.