seek and you shall find
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It wasn’t anything other than an afternoon with my almost-sixteen-son, me throwing lacrosse balls his way and him catching them, me a forty-five-dad in khaki shorts with winter legs and him suited up in helmet, gloves, and stick looking like a medieval primed for jousting. It wasn’t anything other than that, an afternoon of what he called perfect weather, and then my throwing arm sore the next day as were my eyes for I’d had to constantly adjust my sights with each throw as his life kept moving perfectly before me, pure horizon farther and farther away.