Friday night was my youngest son's first varsity high school football game. It was an away game and on the 30 minute drive to the opposing team's stadium, my husband and I shared some thoughts. This is a new journey for us with our last child. A journey we both had hoped would be possible. A journey we will enjoy as much as possible.
My husband was an athlete, a gifted one. I say was only because both of his knees and one shoulder are shot from his own athletic pursuits. His time has passed, painfully. He is proud of our son and understands better than I do what it's like to play on a football team. He understands better than most people actually.
As we sat in the stands I could see my husband's mind had gone off to a place I know nothing about....and mine went to my own personal and private one. The lights in the stadium were turned on, blazing and blinding, up over a grey and pinkish sky about to fade to black. It was a gorgeous late summer evening, warm and clear. I sat there thinking about other football stadiums I had sat in over the years when my thoughts were interrupted. The teams were ready to take the field. We stood, the national anthem sung and we settled in to wait for kickoff.
That's when it hit me. The band began a cadence to punctuate the kickoff. I sat there frozen in time...it was the same cadence I can remember from 1975, my senior year in high school. I shut my eyes and I was there, sitting in the stands, with my friends on another warm September Friday night. Waiting for the whistle to blow, waiting for the game to begin. With my eyes shut I hear the cheerleaders, I hear the band and I hear the excitement in the crowd. I was right back there in an instant.
I opened my eyes and came back to the present and saw my son was lined up, waiting for the whistle. I wonder if he could hear the crowd or did his pounding heart drown out the noise. I wonder how it feels for him, under those lights, in place waiting for this chapter in his life to begin. I wonder if he knows how lucky he is, if he knows how quickly this chapter will pass. I wonder if he knows how special this will all be someday.
I wonder if he knows that his father's big hands are balled up tight and his jaw is clenched. I wonder if he knows that every muscle in his father's body is clenched and tight waiting for that first contact. I wonder if he knows he's not alone out there on that field. I wonder if he knows that his father is right there beside him.
I wonder if he knows just how much his father loves him, how much he worries about him. I wonder if he knows how proud his father is at this moment and how overwhelmed he is with emotion. It isn't the lights in the stadium that has his dark brown eyes glittering. No it is not.
If my husband were to glance in my direction he would see that my eyes are glittering right along with his.
My husband was an athlete, a gifted one. I say was only because both of his knees and one shoulder are shot from his own athletic pursuits. His time has passed, painfully. He is proud of our son and understands better than I do what it's like to play on a football team. He understands better than most people actually.
As we sat in the stands I could see my husband's mind had gone off to a place I know nothing about....and mine went to my own personal and private one. The lights in the stadium were turned on, blazing and blinding, up over a grey and pinkish sky about to fade to black. It was a gorgeous late summer evening, warm and clear. I sat there thinking about other football stadiums I had sat in over the years when my thoughts were interrupted. The teams were ready to take the field. We stood, the national anthem sung and we settled in to wait for kickoff.
That's when it hit me. The band began a cadence to punctuate the kickoff. I sat there frozen in time...it was the same cadence I can remember from 1975, my senior year in high school. I shut my eyes and I was there, sitting in the stands, with my friends on another warm September Friday night. Waiting for the whistle to blow, waiting for the game to begin. With my eyes shut I hear the cheerleaders, I hear the band and I hear the excitement in the crowd. I was right back there in an instant.
I opened my eyes and came back to the present and saw my son was lined up, waiting for the whistle. I wonder if he could hear the crowd or did his pounding heart drown out the noise. I wonder how it feels for him, under those lights, in place waiting for this chapter in his life to begin. I wonder if he knows how lucky he is, if he knows how quickly this chapter will pass. I wonder if he knows how special this will all be someday.
I wonder if he knows that his father's big hands are balled up tight and his jaw is clenched. I wonder if he knows that every muscle in his father's body is clenched and tight waiting for that first contact. I wonder if he knows he's not alone out there on that field. I wonder if he knows that his father is right there beside him.
I wonder if he knows just how much his father loves him, how much he worries about him. I wonder if he knows how proud his father is at this moment and how overwhelmed he is with emotion. It isn't the lights in the stadium that has his dark brown eyes glittering. No it is not.
If my husband were to glance in my direction he would see that my eyes are glittering right along with his.
Right along with them.
Indeed.
Indeed.
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