Two of my Colorado grandchildren were headed to Coors Field the other day with their dad and uncle to watch the hapless Rockies try to win one for a change. Did we have any Rockies caps that the six-year-old and four-year-old could wear? My daughter wanted to know.
I knew we did. Her request sent me to the basement, to emotionally fraught territory. Down there sits a box — one of many, actually — that holds memories unbearably bitter and sweet.





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