Saturday, September 4, 2010

Our Friday Night Lights Have Gone Dark

It's Friday night, and we didn't go anywhere. There was no rush after work to get changed and to the right place at the right time. No need to make sure I was wearing the perfect clothes, or seated in the perfect spot. And we won't be meeting any new people this year.

The Teenager? Isn't playing football this year.

We've put in years of blood, sweat and tears. Literally; all three. Years to get to his Senior Year of Football. Yes, capitalization was needed. It was that important. This was going to be The Year. The year of greatness.

And it doesn't matter how well thought out his reasons are for choosing not to play this year, or how mature that particular thought process has shown him to have become. It doesn't even really matter that he made the best decision he could make for himself. A tiny piece of my heart still broke tonight.

No more after-game dates with my son. Going for that burger and ice cream each week had become such a necessary part of my life, and I was counting on one last year. One last year of creating enough memories for him to take with him when he leaves, so that he'll be able to pull them out when he finds himself stuck in that awkward time between childhood and adulthood.

One last year of creating enough memories for myself to hold close to my heart, so that when he leaves I won't miss him beyond reason.

"Mom, no worries. We'll still go out this year. Only this time, we won't even need a reason."

I will never know why God chose me to watch over this child; but I will always be grateful. 

*Yes. I got a little "linky". I'm having a hard time letting football go, can you tell?*

3 comments:

Iqra said...

It's hard letting things go, especially when they end before you think they will, but there are always new things to replace the old ones--and if new things don't show up, make some! :)

Burgh Baby said...

How did he manage to become so mature? ACK!

ziongal said...

What a bummer. Missing his senior year has got to be worse than what we are going through in our house...missing my boy's first. Your son has worked so hard and *bam*. I hope he's feeling better soon.