Last week D and I joined a local soccer co-ed team.
We picked up our uniforms last week. M plays with #10, so D picked #10. I chose #13. I put it down on the ground and one of my team mates snatched it up and was wearing it. Grr…I was a little perturbed, but let it go.
I ended up having to get a different jersey. Our team captain handed me a jersey and I put it on, #12. I thought nothing more of it.
Fast forward to this Sunday, we were getting ready for our game, my beloved looks at me and says we are ten and twelve. I said yeah…so? Ten and twelve he said again, and it sunk in.
He was born on the 10th and died on the 12th…and now our jerseys represent just that. Coincidence? Or our little man just letting us know he’s watching over us?
I’d like to think the latter.
Wishing he was here, watching from the sidelines.