It hurts at times when you see your little guy fail on the football field. He eats dust but gets back up to line up again. He is thrown the football and suddenly, he holds on to it like gold and he runs, that little guy everyone sees speed through the defensive wall closing in on him. It’s amazing, these two legs, lower on the ground than the other kids, sprinting to the end zone to victory.
Then it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it? This deep regret that the season is about finished and the next time he’ll be on the field will be in another 11 months. What else is there to do, but take photos like the obnoxious mom that I am, poised to point and shoot before the moment escapes into history, that small moment in my small hands, held for seconds that we’ll recall when he’s old, when he’s hung up his jersey in the closet and has worn it until his shoulders don’t fit into it anymore.