Four to Four

A blustery, grey, cold day. Steven's first high school soccer game off Island. "Is anyone going I can ride with?" I asked the school receptionist by phone. Ann Rose, the soccer coach had one space open in the school van. I missed every summer game because I was in Seattle for the bone marrow transplant. Now, I get to ride in the front, passenger seat. A gale blowing over Death's Door. Lake Michigan spray pounding the cars on deck on the way over. When we got to the game, I was the only parent in the bleachers at Bailey's Harbor. The prayer quilt from the Sunbonnet Sues, the one that hung over the doorway in my 7th floor west room at University of Washington Hospital during bone marrow transplant, the one that became a head board in my apartment at the Pete Gross House, the prayer quilt that sheltered my body when I needed a friend, became a colorful lap robe. I loved being along for the ride. That's my son out there on the field in the blue shorts, white shirt and socks. All the uniforms on the Washington Island team look alike but I know which one is mine.