Lance: A cousin story...

This is a story called Lance.
A story of yesterday, the saddest day I can remember.

I woke up with a headache.
The pounding type that kept slamming memories through my mind.


Memories like being babysat by someone who wasn't fast enough to catch us as we ran around Uncle C & Aunt J's house. She got squirted with SuperSoaker 150's, called a Bossy Cow, and probably hated little boys.

Memories of the rise and fall of lego kingdoms in Grandma's basement.

Memories of watching Zelda get beaten in 64 bit graphics...and rematch after rematch of NFL Blitz.

An electric guitar rendition of the National Anthem.

Hauling corn from the field and using the jake brake past the high school band practice.

A trip to Webster Lake in a red mustang where we got talked into a 30 mph kneeboard jump over the ski ramp. We had Taco Bell that day.

Riding wheelies on Spencer and Ty's blasters...it was ok because they weren't ours.

Playing chess together once. Only once because it wasn't fun to lose.

Going to watch Happy the Clown from WFFT 55 live.

Memories that flood back every time I hear Fall Out Boy, Bad Company, or Warren Zevon on the radio,

Borrowing some Amish outfits from my neighbor and celebrating Halloween. One of the most outrageous nights of my life.

Memories of talks where we both agreed our dad's knew little about being high school boys.

That one winter where three cousins decided to drive 1300 miles and spray their grandpa with squirt guns.

Memories of a man that sat beside me in church, and in jail.

Memories that go on and on and can't possibly be recounted, or blogged about in one sitting.


Here's the twist to the story, the story is titled Lance but it isn't really about him. 

As my mind is still distracted with memories, and as tears still come to man that has tried so long not to cry...all I can think about is the real story.

The story of a Groom presenting his spotless Bride to The Father. Lance wasn't perfect, but he didn't have to be...and I can't wait to see him again.


J