Yesterday I got an unexpected call from my Uncle Scott. I love him dearly, but we don’t talk often. He’s out in California, and we live different lives.
So I was surprised to hear his voice. First I ran through the holidays: Thanksgiving? Christmas? Birthday? Nope. Then I wondered whether everything was OK. Of course it was. He sounded mighty chipper.
After some polite introductory banter, I found out why Scott was calling: My second cousin, Joey, has been drafted by the Chicago Cubs.
I usually don’t care much about sports, but I couldn’t be more proud.
I’ve met Joey only twice. The last time was about seven years ago when he came here for a championship. I remember him as a lanky kid, a stark contrast to his muscular, wrestling-coach father. And now that kid is pitching for the Chicago Cubs.
My friends who have children often comment on how quickly they grow up. To me, the process seems magnified a hundredfold because I’m a spectator, catching only the highlights. Life flies by in the blink of an eye.
Well, congratulations, Joey. You’ve worked hard. And now you’ve achieved your dream.
I hope it only gets sweeter from here on out.