I turned to baseball for solace.
Some way to make the day seem normal.
Though I make a point to enjoy regular days, the kind I beg for when something happens.
Just last week I saw Kansas City play in Seattle.
It made me think of home. That’s why I went.
Maybe it was all that Midwestern blood in the stadium.
But just before the first pitch, it was like my grandfather had just died again.
It’d been three months.
I felt that way yesterday, too, sitting by Lake Washington.
And then I heard my dog had died.
And I watched a couple of innings and didn’t even know who won or lost.
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