To start, a warning: Turn back now because this goes on.
And also before we begin, an apology: This should’ve been published the moment Washington’s softball season ended and Gabbie Plain threw her last pitch in purple and gold. But words are hard, especially when you’ve been crammed into a canal boat in rural Netherlands for a minute with no internet and lots of thoughts to convert into language. So this’ll have to do.
My fifth word, give or take, was Edgar. Then there’s the photo proof of four year-old me sleeping in a plastic Seahawks helmet next to the hand-me-down plush cat who I carried everywhere, at all times gripping the neck with such force that the stuffing had long since left the body and migrated to the now bursting-at-the-eyes head.