There’s a time of the year when the sun never goes down in Alaska. They call it midnight baseball. That’s what he longed to see; midnight baseball.

He’d been to almost every state in the country. Spent a lot of time in the Midwest; Indiana, Ohio, up around Chicago. Big fan of Michigan too. But, he wanted to see the sun at midnight. Wanted to feel it on his skin. Wanted to drink beer under golden rays at two in the morning. Maybe these were all just dreams.

The sun followed him. Followed him all the way to California. Then he took a right at San Francisco. And then,it was dark. His friend no longer had contact with him. It was that way throughout the night.

Morning time came and his pal woke him up. There he was in the sky. Shimmering in the morning fog. Rising to where he’d always been; looking down on him.Watching his every move.

He drank coffee and looked at it through his windshield. Soon we’ll be together, he whispered. Soon.