Post by Edward Thorton Jr. on May 22, 2016 11:25:10 GMT -6
After my usual morning workout, I jogged home from the gym to join my wife and son for breakfast. It was Ryan's birthday this weekend, so his mother - my beautiful wife, Elizabeth - had made banana pancakes, his favorite. We ate largely in silence; it's not often you find a family so happy and comfortable that they need to talk rather than enjoy the quiet presence of one another. After breakfast, the taxi blared its horn out front. I hugged my son, kissing him on the forehead and telling him I'd see him soon. Then I hugged and kissed Beth, reminding her that the plane tickets for their flight out would be for this Saturday; no sense in them having to spend too much time in Chicago.
The taxi ride was a time for contemplation as the roads peeled past us and the dull of whine of Top 40 radio droned from the dashboard. The cabbie and I didn't exchange many words - hello's and how you doin's but nothing personal. I didn't want the distraction, anyway. I needed to focus on the task ahead. As street sign and tertiary passed my window, I thought of my father and how I was going to make him proud. I thought of my wife and son, and I thought of the destiny that awaited me. On Sunday, I'd step in the ring with two women who've lost something dear to them: Thursday her boyfriend and Alessandra her husband and son. I silently thanked god I'd never have to experience such a loss, but I knew I'd have to keep my wits about me. Those who fight to pay tribute to what they've lost are dangerous indeed.
Soon I was at the airport. A quick TSA pat-down and a stop through the Chili's To-Go Line for a cup of coffee and salad had me finally ready. Aboard the plane, I put in my headphones and opened the copy of Men's Fitness I had brought for some light reading. Soon I'd be in Chicago, living the dream I always knew I'd find.
I was home. And the future looked so very, very bright.
The taxi ride was a time for contemplation as the roads peeled past us and the dull of whine of Top 40 radio droned from the dashboard. The cabbie and I didn't exchange many words - hello's and how you doin's but nothing personal. I didn't want the distraction, anyway. I needed to focus on the task ahead. As street sign and tertiary passed my window, I thought of my father and how I was going to make him proud. I thought of my wife and son, and I thought of the destiny that awaited me. On Sunday, I'd step in the ring with two women who've lost something dear to them: Thursday her boyfriend and Alessandra her husband and son. I silently thanked god I'd never have to experience such a loss, but I knew I'd have to keep my wits about me. Those who fight to pay tribute to what they've lost are dangerous indeed.
Soon I was at the airport. A quick TSA pat-down and a stop through the Chili's To-Go Line for a cup of coffee and salad had me finally ready. Aboard the plane, I put in my headphones and opened the copy of Men's Fitness I had brought for some light reading. Soon I'd be in Chicago, living the dream I always knew I'd find.
I was home. And the future looked so very, very bright.