Simple Sign
I’ve always sought signs and moments that could active my movement onward. Let a song thrust your step or some notice capture your thoughts.
I muster them like baseball cards, these tiny signs. Its a elementary transition, verily. I happen to advance by steps by the counter, spy a sunshiny pack with a luminary outfielder and a slenderly visible cost tag. Sprightly check of my pouch for the money and the bundle was mine.
First things, first. What is in there? One of the “1 in 500 packs” selections? A hot rookie? And which Red Sox? Oh, I wanted a Red Sox. By preference not a relief pot. So I rip that pack unclose, caution thrown to the zephyr. Always from the back, slide the cards out the top, kind-hearted of like a bag of chips. The back of the bottom card in the accumulate stares at me but I with haste flip to the front and carefully ascertain to be the same each of the villains in the lineup. Line Langston, Mike Stanley, Carlos Baerga, Mickey Morandini, ooh Ingenuous Thomas, Steve Avery, NOMAR!!!! Jackpot. My indication. A good day forward. Save that guy, put it in between the other 14 cards so the form and edges endure. Hold that symptom, grip that reliance.
I don’t buy baseball cards anymore. Ok I lied. I’m grieved. The last pack of cards held a emblem as well. This was not full-throat, Robert Vegetable-screaming, continue awake up the neighborhood, a blazing shrub sign. Completely the over against. Ohhhh man. So I bought a bale of 1995 Blade baseball cards and flipped through the little collection. I got happy and found a sign. A Derek Jeter rookie card. The Derek Jeter rookie card. Work valued at $80. Crap.
Emblem of my last summer it was. That mendacious and crashing trust.
I found a new sign. Oh did I. Watch up. As I will.
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