I wrote this, an excerpt from a longer story, on August 13, 2018

What is the first wish that I whispered? When just a wee girl, I remember my mother pointing to the first star that appeared in the night sky. She softly said, “Close your eyes and make a wish.” I did. I can’t remember what that wish was or if it came true, but when that first star shines down from the heavens in the evening, I recall my mother’s words, and I make a wish.

Let’s talk baseball. The teams have good days and they have bad days and I pretty much think that every time a player steps up to the plate, he wishes with everything he’s got that he hits the baseball that is hurdling towards him from the pitcher’s mound.

Here’s a wish come true–just last night. Picture this: Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, two outs, two strikes. The score: Nationals 3, Cubs 0. I love the Cubs, by the way. They are my team and I will be a loyal fan no matter where I live. Okay, two outs, two strikes. Cub’s newest player, David Bote, steps up to the plate. He swings his bat over his shoulder a couple of times, preparing himself. He takes a deep breath, and straightens up. His eyes meet the pitcher’s eyes. For an instant his wish, his prayer is, “Please let me hit a home-run. Please, please please.” He strikes, and strikes again. It goes down to the final pitch. The ball rockets out of the pitcher’s hand and hurdles towards home plate. The fans are on their feet. Wrigley Field is stone quiet.

I am at home, holding my breath, wishing, praying for a grand-slam. I would be happy for at least a base hit, which could keep the game going. I almost turn the channel, but I bravely stared at the television screen. I stay sitting. My cat Yellow Foot is sound asleep on my lap; I am trapped.

CRACK! Bote’s bat makes contact. It’s high. The ball is sailing out over the field. I take a deep breath and hold it. I can’t look. Will it be caught by one of National’s outfielders? No. It sails out and into the stands. Fair ball. The crowd is screaming. I shriek, “Yes!”

Yellow Foot jumps awake and leaps away from my cries. A grand-slam home run. The stadium explodes and Bote’s teammates burst out of the dug-out and run towards him. He rounds 3rd base and sprints home and is met with jumping, screaming , and howling fans and teammates. They rip his shirt off. They douse him with ice water. They can’t stop cheering and shouting. A grand-slam. Wow! “Cubs win! Cubs win! Cubs win!” to quote the late great Harry Caray. The fans begin to sing their favorite song: “Go Cubs go!”

You just cannot beat that feeling. I love those boys. I wish, really, I pray that they make it to the world series again.

Whatever will I do if the Cubs do make it to the world series. Can I take another nail biting, hide my head, and plugging my ears series? Yes I can. Yes I can.