NOTE: I drafted this post on October 22nd, precisely 24 hours before learning of my beloved sister’s sudden death. Days later, the Houston Astros would lose the World Series. As I re‐read the post, a salty gulp of poignant synchronicity rose up in my throat. While a life is not a sport, my memory will never disconnect these two events. Still, I embrace the journey ahead. My sister would demand that, and more books, of course. — Melanie
Six weeks ago, I endured a night of Houston Astros baseball. You may remember my preferred view:
That was September. This is October. We’re now living in a sea of World Series hype for our Houston Astros.
(Notice that super‐friendly reference there? Yes, she’s drinking the [orange] juice.) it’s officially Baseball Madness in the Bayou City and the hype carries a contagious virus.
Mention World Series and the verbal bets begin. Will we go full seven?
Eager to join the tribe, I’ve begun retelling my most recent Astros memory: I saw these boys play when the park’s field stands were more empty than full! I watched 15 runs batted in! I saw Air Yordan-what’s-his-name now hit a triple!
In these exciting times, why not buy a World Series shirt? Even if you’re a Never‐Sports person.
I like the possibilities behind this tee.
It confirms our play in the Big Boy Game but offers no promises beyond that. We may not end up The Champs after seven rounds but we’ll be on the field. We’ll try.
That double play reminded me of another picture from last month’s free‐ticket night.
I’m standing outside Minute Maid Park with my favorite bag, chosen for three reasons: the pair of books inside and its simple message. Only later did I realize the magic of “Embrace the Journey:”
- Every day offers a journey, to or from somewhere.
- Discover something.
- Embrace what you find.
That magic first appeared as DH and I cruised the lobby of Minute Maid Park.
This swatch of faded Astro turf hangs in the lobby of the ball field. Look closely to find the raised team logo. It’s a five‐pointed star centered behind a capital letter “H.”
Even up close, the search demands a determined visual search. My eyes failed. DH whooped when he spied the logo. I, instead, reached out with silent hands to feel what I couldn’t see.
When my fingers grazed the grass, I smiled and remembered again: Discover something — embrace your journey.
I walked into the stadium, looked around, built a pretzel diamond then picked up my book to read.
Now I’m walking into the next game, watching and embracing whatever’s next on this journey.
In baseball or books.