I hadn’t been at the football training camp long, but I was excited to attend one run by such a famous coach. I ran the shuttle drill for Coach, doing my best to improve each time. After one such run I rested on my haunches to catch my breath. On the ground before me was a large three-ring binder. Curious, I picked it up. Inside was an exhaustive sampling of every math test and paper I’d ever turned in during the 6th grade, all written on thick construction paper. It also held a log detailing all my shuttle times I ran back then, including my personal best of 5.2 seconds.
I waved the binder at Coach. “Hey, I wonder if I can beat my best time.”
While I waited for my next shot at the drill, a yellow lab came trotting up to me. It was Vegas, my much beloved dog I had cherished from puppy-hood to her death a few years ago. Seeing her back alive and well brought tears of joy streaming from my eyes. I hugged her close, hugged her tighter.
I woke up sobbing, with an empty hole in my chest, because I knew it was just a dream.