The tiny red two alerts me I have Snapchats to view. As is my habit, I quickly snap a screenshot of each allowing me more time to view them. The first pic is a selfie of Madison on the porch swing with my mother. They are the two most important people in my life and it warms my heart they still get together in my absence. I trace my finger over Madison’s giant smile. Her golden-tanned face glows and bright blue eyes twinkle in the summer sun. She’s happy—they both seem happy. It reads ‘wish you were here’. The second picture displays a view of the barn from the driver’s seat of the tractor. Madison typed ‘Must feed the cows’. If only they knew how I longed for my former farm life.
Although Madison stated she’d go for a walk and alert me of her return, I hope she will stand nearby and listen.
“I love you, dad and I’m sorry I can’t be there in person.” I clear my throat, my mouth suddenly very dry. “I’m still in Minneapolis. They called the game after five innings and an hour of rain and lightning delay. I’m still living our dream and feel your presence every time I take the mound.” A chuckle escapes as I prepare to share about the game. “I took a chance in the third inning. The guys shared that the coach’s face turned beet-red and he cursed twice before he changed to cheering for me. It kills me to bunt at each of my at-bats. I decided today to the show coach what I’ve been telling him all season. The count was 2-0. Ever cocky Mosby gift-wrapped a fastball right down the middle. I wish you could have seen his face when I took a full swing knocking his gift in the upper section of the left-center bleachers. I was just so tired of American League pitchers assumed to be an easy out via bunt. I now have one homerun and two RBI’s on my stats. In a long conversation with the manager and batting coach, they’ve decided to let me officially bat instead of bunt for the rest of the season.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “They’ll soon be knocking on my hotel room door signaling it’s time to head to the airport.” I sigh as I organize all I wish to share with dad today.
“I’m in love with Madison.” I blurt then quietly listen to see if I hear a reaction from Madison if she remained within earshot. Hearing nothing, I continue. “It kills me to be in Chicago with her in Columbia. I long to share my life with her. It’s lonely in my condo and on the road as much as the Cubs are. I try to share everything with her via our texts and calls. Hearing her voice helps some. I miss her every day. I need her more now than ever before, both mentally and physically.” Again, I chuckle. “I showed her and told her I loved her at the end of May. Then we each returned to our lives.”
“Dad, I’m lost and need you now more than ever. How do I allow her to chase her dream while I chase mine, yet show her how much I love her? I need you to guide me. I need you to help me. She’s too close to mom. If I ask for mom’s help, you know her, she would get her hopes up. If something were to happen and we don’t become a couple both Madison and mom would be devastated. I can’t risk their friendship with each other until I figure out how to make us work. You know what I mean? I’m sure you do. I need one of your deep philosophical conversations we shared while mending fences or sitting at the livestock barn. I desperately need your guidance. So, I’ll be looking for your signs. Just remember I’m a novice at love and might need more than a gentle prod in the right direction.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Well, I’ve gotta go. I love and miss you so much, dad. I hope I make you proud.”