I had a short dream this morning in which my dad made a brief appearance. I am watching a couple of adults helping a kid practice batting. I am standing a little ways behind the catcher, in line with the pitcher, so I can't actually see the kid who is batting. The sun is low in the sky and shinning directly in my eyes. There are several beach umbrellas standing in the sand amongst the sparse audience. I manage to position myself so that my head is in the shadow of one of these umbrellas. It must be a very shallow umbrella because moving a foot forward or back puts the sun in my eyes. Now that I can comfortably see the players (well, the adults anyway), I look around for my dad. He's not in the audience, but wait, there he is on the field, standing maybe ten feet to right of the kid at bat, watching the kid. He's wearing a light brown suit, a color I don't think I've ever seen anywhere except in the movies. It's not tan, it might have a hint of orange. Typically it looks a little big on him.
The catcher has had enough and wanders off, so my Dad takes up the catcher's duties. The pitcher lobs the ball in, my dad retrieves it and stands up to throw it back. He stands up easily, like I can never remember him doing. Well, heaven must be being good to him.