Today’s the day you hit the winning home run.
“Dad, Dad did you see me hit the winning home run?” you’ll shout to the stands.
“He’s gone,” the other parents will say. “He’s gone and there’s no point in finding him.”
Hold your bat threatening them.
“You tell me where he is. Whatever he told you, it’s not true.”
They’ll look into your nine-year-old eyes with fright but they’ll hold their ground.
“He told us enough. Enough to make us understand his need to head east,” they’ll say. “You can try to terrify us with your words the way you did with your father, but we are many. We are parents. And we protect our own.”
Don’t bother with those fools. You could stay and make them bow, but they already told you everything you need to know. He’s headed East. Virginia. The only place he has kin. Drop the bat and start hitching. Your father has a good couple hours lead on you and that’s it. Catch him, learn him, and bring him back home to raise you through your schooling the way you taught him to raise a child.
Happy Winning Home Run Day!
