Game Seven 2016

I wrote this while watching the final game of the 2016 World Series.  It took until now to post it on my blog because I wanted to tweak it.  I don't trust the meter of my inner ear at 12:45 a.m.  Yay Cubbies!

Game Seven 2016

For seven innings, they were beautiful.
For seven innings, they ruled the game.
For seven innings the cubs whistled "What Curse?"
and Go Cubs Go, they sang...

For seven innings the Cubs played
and silenced the whole Tribe
The Eighth inning however,
things got clever. It had a different vibe.

Batters came, the Indians rallied
and now the score was tied.
It even started raining...
Surely God was on Chicago's side.

They held on through the ninth
and all the nation held its breath
would this be a moment of almost pure joy?
Would this be the curse's death?

But the tarp is on the field
and the game will be delayed.
The fans standing in the streets of Chicago,
like their counters in Cleveland,
Ignored the weather. They stayed.

Everyone who loves baseball
knows the game can break your heart.
Loving something means being willing to suffer.
So we'll wait, but we want the game to restart.

At 12:12 they restarted.
And Shaw looked shaky at first
Would 2016 be the greatest season for the Cubs?
Or would it be the worst?

Davis caught a long fly ball,
but the runner did advance.
The Pitcher set with Rizzo at bat
and a meeting before the dance.

A walk to face Zorbrist
who was 0 for 4
and Cub fans bit their nails.
They couldn't endure much more.

Two men on and only one out.
Would pitcher or batter prevail?
The pitch led to a sacrifice but
Zorbrist didn't fail.

One out, two runs and bases loaded,
A pitching change at hand.
Who would take the title after 179 games,
The Cubbies or Cleveland?

Heyward struck out not quite swinging
Baez fell behind in the count.
With three bases filled,they could pad the lead
if the second baseman hadn't popped out.

Edwards Jr. took the mound
for the bottom of the tenth
Three outs to glory or goatville
baseball at its zenith.

The first man down, Ramirez tried to crush it,
and would be marked a 6-3.
If you were scoring at home, you had one out to go
to watch a moment of perfect beauty.

But the Cubbies always make it interesting,
and Jr. fell behind in the count.
The catcher walked out to settle him.
Don't think about the game, just the out.

A walk brought the tieing run to the plate
and Guyer they gave second without a fight.
Davis hit and a run scored
and the game went on deeper in the night.

And just like that, from third to first,
The final out was made.
Cubs Win Cubs Win Cubs Win Cubs Win
and 2016 as a year, was saved!

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To Get to Easter

I am a two decade plus veteran mother.  Enduring twenty-two years of diapers, weathering five adolescents so far, I figure, I've seen enough to not be worn down by the capacity of children to surprise.

I was as wrong as a rookie who claims they'll potty train their two year old over the weekend during Christmas break.   I was as wrong as the mother who boasts of how her kids show remarkable good judgment.  That's the kids' cue to riffle through the tool box and emerge with duct tape, a gooey paint brush and a hammer, leaving Mom to discern, what fire do I put out first?

Today, I cleaned up the upstairs.  No problem, but the rooms seemed oddly spartan, not as many toys as I normally find on a Monday.  I thought, they're getting older, they're picking up after themselves.  Why I indulged this naive fantasy, I'll never know.  The triumph of hope over experience.

I patrolled the main floor and again, it wasn't horrid.

Normally, I do two floors and quit.  But I thought, I'd try to finish the job, and it was then, I learned, where all the toys went. Every...single...toy.

Every bin in the basement also has been dumped.  I mean, you can walk the basement and never touch the ground, owing to the clutter. Even the basketball hoop and the vacuum cleaner have been knocked over, and all since Saturday, because Saturday, I was downstairs, I didn't see this.   This...this is new.

Fight or flight.  I left the basement, but the image of the mess wouldn't leave.  It made me mad.
I was set to work myself into a mother of all lathers over my offspring, and then I remembered a friend of mine, who is clinging each moment, to the twins she carries.   It is a condition very rare, and possibly fatal to both children.  The girls are only 22 weeks, so every second more in the womb brings them closer to being able to thrive outside the womb, and every second is equally fraught with the possibility of death.  This family needs prayers for a miracle, of the twins somehow thriving, somehow enduring up past the threshold for survival.  They need to at the very least, get to Easter.   That's my prayer.  Suddenly, getting worked up over a really big --and it is obnoxiously so, don't get me wrong, mess in the basement seems like a colossal waste of everyone's time.

So please, pray today for my friend and her children.  Pray for them to make it to Easter, and if you come across a galactic style  kid induced mess  or hassle from life that could only come as a form of redemptive punishment for your sins, remember, there are far heavier crosses out there.   

It may take me until Easter to get the basement into order, I hope my friend gets to pick up after her twins one day, for someone else.