Dear Annabel: My Game Four Preview

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Who would’ve thought – a man could be made whole in the glimpse of a moment. At least that’s what she told me. Now she’s gone – the woman in yellow – walking away from the cab we once shared. I’ll never forget the last thing she said to me – ‘Miami in seven.’

When my everything faded into the distance it began to rain. Typical Chicago. I’ve often wondered if God watches us, with his legs propped up by an industrialized coffee table, waiting for the right moment to make it worse. It felt worse.

The wind was much cooler by the lake front where we had drinks on a patio. She had a coffee – tea for me.  Would life ever be this perfect again?  Does perfection even go on? That’s what she asked, in reference to Mr. James. She spoke about him with great wonder – this man she never met. I told her that bouncing back had become second nature to Mr. James. She sipped her coffee and began to read the paper.

Just then a child fell and scrapped his knee on the sidewalk. The boy’s mother rushed to his side.  She kissed his knee. I long to appreciate this moment like I used to – back before the war. She stirred her coffee and told me she wished someone would have be there to kiss Mr. James’ leg when it cramped up. Surely she was joking. Her sense of humor was a puzzle to me. A week after the death of my father she often asked if I still missed my ‘father who art in heaven.’  What a curious thing to say to a man.

As we wondered to Lincoln Park, a careless feeling was in the air. Maybe it was the birds. Maybe it was the way she whispered in my ear that Mr. Bosh’s ability to spread the floor was undervalued. Maybe it was the way her yellow dress looked in the forefront of the green park, but either way, I was finally happy. We continued our stroll along the sidewalk. She wondered about the fourth game and the concept of ‘bouncing back.’ What’s there to wonder?  I told her that like a rainbow’s inability to appear twice during spring – the team in black & grey wouldn’t shoot 70% twice in a series. She began to twirl.

As I leaned against a park bench to observe my beautiful creature in yellow, an old man and his dog walked by. He was wearing a long trench coat and sandals – curious combination. Just as he passed me, the man turned and said that he’d seen the same rainbow three times in the same day at the bank of a waterfall in Brazil. A wink in my direction and he turned to continue onward.  I couldn’t help but wonder if what I’d just seen was true. It didn’t matter because she had returned to me with a dandy lion = my beloved.  ‘Kawhi won’t go off again’ – she laughed as she began to blow the thistles off the dandy lion and into my face.

Just then I came to my senses. She was gone. I sat in the back of a taxi cab.  The driver called me a dipshit and asked where I wanted to go.  I said north. The rain fell slowly down the window as a gazed into the distance. I was looking but couldn’t see. The driver called me a jagoff and said he needed to know exactly where I was headed or I’d be forced to leave.

‘Well buddy, what are you going with?’ asked the impatient driver.

‘The Spurs…  I think I’m going with the Spurs.’

~FIN~

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