Big Dreams

Well, we've gone and done it. We've filed a letter of intent for spring Crown Tourney.

I'm ambivalent. Being queen -- or even 'potential queen for a day' -- really doesn't matter that much to me. Ten years ago, I might have cared. Today, not so much. I have my dangly medallions, I'm a peer of the realm, I have my heartburn sources. What's a crown but another source of gastric upset?

The Viking cares. He cares a lot. He wants to do well. He wants to prove -- to himself? the Chiv? -- that he has the chops to run with the big boys. He wants me to be proud of him.

I am proud of him already. He's the sun, the moon, and the stars to me. Winning Crown Tourney, or washing out in the first round, is not going to change that. I've told him so.

It doesn't matter. He wants to fight Crown for me, and he wants to do well, wants to do better than well. He wants to make me queen.

For my own part, I really don't care. For his sake, however, I have to.

I have a hell of a lot of sewing to do between now and the first weekend of May.

verso - recto