I wish you could have been there for the sun & the rain & the long, hard hills. For the sound of a thousand conversations scattered along the road. For the people laughing & crying & remembering at the end. But, mainly, I wish you could have been there.
There are about a hundred good reasons why no sane person would ever coach soccer, he told me on the drive home, but I forget most of them when I’m on my meds & then we laughed wildly in the bright spring air.
There are lives I can imagine without children but none of them have the same laughter & noise.