Man of Action II

by G. Sax

Springbok
Last night the air smelled so good. Rain pure, washing away the last bits of dirty air from an overlong winter. The weekend was grand and not even an early case of the Mondays followed by nearly 11 straight hours of deskwork could wipe the smile off my face.

I’ve officially been in Minnesota for a year now after about 10 years away. The way I used to feel about springtime as a kid on my way home from school was the same way I felt last night as I locked the garage and wobbled toward my apartment after a long day. Youthful, full of a certain thrill that an incredible summer lay before me, unrepentant in my zeal for the tastes of life.

I’m not so young, of course, though it feels good to be regularly mistaken for a twentysomething. I have my hair and my hair is brown. My wallet remains empty, but maybe this is what makes me lean more toward 18 than 38.

With spring and summer here and now, I’m going to get me some of that green real soon.

Summer Baseball, 2005