Four summers ago I went to a Rays game and met you in the gift shop. You were just there, amidst all the others, not really doing anything except catching my eye. And I loved you. I loved the way you managed to both keep me warm and cool. I loved our travels. The first was our trip to Tennessee and I remember it was the first time you had ever seen snow! On top of a mountain, no less- That was a time you kept me warm. Another was on our road trip to New York and remember we stopped in D.C. for a day and I was just pouring sweat all over you, it was so fucking hot? I’m sorry about that, but hey, that was a time you kept me cool. Yeah. From the swamps back home to the… rivers of Minnesota. Where I lost you. Where I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye because in the frenzy, I wasn’t thinking about you. But I did try to find you, hoping you would pop up like a cork, the way our kayak did. But no… you were a hat. And hats don’t float.
Rest in peace, hat, and I’ll find comfort in knowing you went down on just another adventure.