Above is the blog hop photo prompt; below is my story that goes with it. Enjoy!
“If I were to die, would you still go to baseball games or would it be too hard because of our memories together?” Patrick asked his wife of nine years.
Marie thought for a moment. She took in the smell of stadium nachos, hot dogs, and beer through her senses. Humid August air wrapped around her skin a like comfy blanket. The crack of the ball against the bat alerted her eyes to the play on the field. As the batter slid into second base, Marie turned to her husband.
“I think I would still come. It would be a while before I could go to that first game, though” Marie said. “Unless you die in October. Then I could probably heal enough by the following summer to catch a game.” Marie gave Patrick a wink.
Patrick laughed, “Nice, hon.” He brushed a kiss across her smiling lips. “Mmm. Nacho cheese.”
“You know it!” said Marie. She continued, “I know you’d still go to games if I died. And you should bring your new lady.”
“Yeah. I think you should remarry if I die prematurely. You cool if I remarry?”
Patrick paused and raised an eyebrow at his wife. “Sure. Of course.”
“Alright then. Glad we got that settled.” Marie snuggled in close to Patrick and leaned her head on his shoulder. As the teams swapped positions marking the top of the sixth inning, Marie let her mind wander.
“I’d probably do something weird if you died early. Like buy a farm.” Marie said.
“Really? What would you grow?
“A wide variety of capsicum.”
Patrick let out an amused laugh. “Capsicum? What would you do with a farm fullof peppers?”
“Make salsa. Duh. A lot of it. So I could sell it. My goal would be to give a portion of the profits away… probably for Africa.”
“So if I die early, you’d buy a farm to raise peppers so you could make salsa to support Africa?”
“Huh. I think a winery is more your style.”
“Yeah, the rest of the profits would go towards a winery. I really think farming would be my true passion.” Marie concluded.
“Pffft” Patrick teased, “Says the girl who grew one tiny watermelon in her garden last year.”
“Hey. I’m telling you. Those were prank seeds!” Marie argued with a giggle.
“Right. Prank seeds. Okay, hon,” Patrick said, grinning. “You make me laugh. I love it!” Patrick kissed the top of her head . “Hey don’t forget, I’ll be late tomorrow. I need to pick up those manuscripts from the printer.”
“Be sure to buy a book of stamps, too. I’d appreciate it, babe.”
Cheers rose up at a home run swing, bringing Marie back to reality. The memory was from three years ago, just weeks before Patrick’s terminal diagnosis. Tonight against the luminous backdrop of the hot August sunset, it felt like only yesterday. She lifted her face to the evening sky, “Love you,” she whispered.