Dragonflies

With the close of the summer, the beginning of school (for me and for Jimmy), the planning for a big third birthday, and the unfortunate dropping of daily naps, finding a moment to capture our comings and goings in the More Seasoned Then Blog was nothing short of a challenge.

Tonight, I sit, with the drone of white noise beside me on the baby monitor, watching on tv what looks to be the last Cubs game of a magical season.

The Magic for me really was on Sunday, August 23rd, the last official day of my summer, while in Section 4, row 11. Seats 1-4. Jimmy's first Cubs game at the most magical place in my heart.

When I think of Wrigley Field, I think of the hopeful, most dedicated fans, year after year, visiting the Mecca of Baseball, casting wish after wish, throwing the ashes of loved ones into the Ivy (I've seen this first hand), and cheering on those lovable losers and inevitably pissing off the Sox fans for our unwavering optimism, our believing in goat curses, and our singing of "Go Cubs Go..."

When I think of Wrigley Field, I think of being seven years old, riding in the back of Grampa's Grand Marquis, listening to WGN 720 while riding on the Kennedy, knowing we were getting closer to my happy place with each interruption in the broadcast from interference while under the tunnels.

When I think of Wrigley Field, I think of my Dad, hot dogs, peanuts,  the "Ball or the Beer Moment" (the beer won) and the creepy Cubs hand puppet I begged him for after he told the guys in front of us to "Shut Your Mouths" because at the end of each side, they would stand up and use profanities in front of his little girls.

When I think of Wrigley Field, I think of the time each year my Dad, while working at the Chicago Tribune, would be able to take us in the "President of the Tribune's seats"... and every year, it would rain and I would put my head on the dugout and cry.

But now, when I think of Wrigley Field, I will think of this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3xhNniN96M

My son will have so many opportunities that life never offered me... And this is one of them. And it was one of the best, one of the proudest moments of my life. There he was... two months shy of his third birthday, running the bases in the World's Greatest Ballpark after a Cubs win. By himself...Amidst the dragonflies.

When we found our seats we befriended a lovely usher named Mary. A cancer survivor, the retiree took on the job as an usher at the tender age of 78.

Mary let us walk down to the field to watch the warmups and the National Anthem ("Go 'Merica!") and we noticed swarms upon swarms of dragonflies abuzz over the field. Watching them dance about the infield was mesmerizing. And something I can't recall noticing in my countless Wrigley outings. I asked Mary about the dragonflies, and she said it was "something that they've never seen before, probably because of the excessive rain in June..." but I knew it was something better, something more meaningful, something just magical. 

If you're the type who believe in signs and symbols, you'll know dragonflies are sent by loved ones to let you know they are thinking of you, that they are there... I kinda like to think it was a Field of Dreams moment. "If you build it, they will come..."

I like to think those Dragonflies are just breezy hellos from all of the ones we have loved and lost in the 107 years we have waited for a World Series. From tonight's outing, it looks like we will be waiting a little bit longer. 

But the dragonflies will be back...and so will this little guy. 

And as for the team, those Cubbies, for whom we bleed that Cubbie blue, they'll be back...and they'll be More Seasoned Then, too.

'Til then, Hope Springs Eternal...