"How can they think they're really going to play this game?" we all kept saying as we ate an early dinner and watched the weathermen track point to orange, red, and purple on the television screen. Those weathermen were having a great time talking about the thunder, lightning, and even tornado warnings.
"They don't like to cancel college games," my husband said. "And both teams have to travel to Maine this weekend--"
Six o'clock came and went, and still no word from Julia that the game, scheduled for seven, would be postponed.
Raingear? Check. Umbrellas? Check. Towels? Got them, too.
As we pulled out of the driveway, it was pouring. As we got onto the highway, bolts of lightning flashed in front of us. As we made our way toward Middletown, texts from Julia started lighting up the phone screens.
Not sure this game is going to happen, she wrote, a half hour before gametime was supposed to happen. Don't leave yet.
"A little late," Garth said.
Game canceled, she wrote. No, just kidding. Might still be on.
Just when it was hardest to turn around on the highway, you guessed it. The game would be played tomorrow.
We splattered and splashed our way home, windshield wipers at full speed. I had wondered when I'd get to write my slice, and I had my answer!