Ten.One Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Three
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Is that the chainsaw again? It’s just past 5:30. You’ve got to be kidding me. I want to run around in the woods in my robe and shake my fist.
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Cracking crashes of trees.
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Pen and paper always.
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I decide to not get too technical in my notes. I keep it simple. Do I like the nose? Do I like the texture? Which one has acid? Do I think it tastes good?
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We stop for hot dogs at Kelly’s on our way home from camp. I tell her that I need to keep talking with the locals and finding out the hidden gems.
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I ask the question and try to ask it nonchalantly.
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But I’m not bluffing.
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She takes me on a walk while the boys practice. I remember now why we moved here. I came for the beauty and the quiet and the way the setting sun casts its glow over everything.
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We sit on the bench. She asks who’s up. It’s my son but the app is paused. Nothing is happening. He hit a home run!
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I tell him that if he was old enough to drink I would have sprayed him with champagne.
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But it’s not about the home run. It’s seeing what you know is on the inside finally reveal itself to the world. And that smile.