I bought my father a baseball jersey for his 40th birthday, his favorite player’s number
But being the way he was, he got drunk that night and ruined his own party.
I didn’t give him the gift
Funny how it gets akward, the longer you
the more inadequate a gift is to give.
Like an unwritten thought that fades
But, then after a certain amount time becomes it’s own charm, makes value out of things. Not unlike wine
The nostalgia of sports memorabilia
And we too grow old. Houses become emptier and too big. Things are lost and found, like that old jersey tucked away unseen until we moved to a more suitable home
Well my kids had their own kids as things go, and they invited me to a game. The old jersey amazingly fit me so I gave it a go.
As I was walking in a young fan booed me. I stopped my son from standing up for me. I just smiled
You have your team kid, and I have mine