Sunday, September 1, 2013

It's Never Really Over



The New BobCats... Season 2013
Looking for a place to park is always easy. I’m always early. I get out of my truck, walk down the street, and take my place in line. Finally, it’s my turn, greetings all around; I pay, and move on. I glance up to search out my “regular” spot to sit, and it’s empty. I had wondered if it would be, or if someone else would have already taken my place. 

Suddenly the all too familiar smells both assault my nose and bring it pleasure, all at the same time.  Fresh cut grass, smoke rolling from a grill, and popcorn exploding in a machine not too far in the distance.

Then I hear grunts, and groans, and shouting.  I turn around and there they all are, dressed out in their uniforms, spread out like an army, and ready to rumble. They’re on the field, warming those muscles up, getting ready for the first game of the year, the Fall Football Jamboree. 

I climb the steps to my old seat in the bleachers. They are made of aluminum and on a hot August night, they will be warm to the bare legs. I always sit at the tip top because if there is ever a going to be a breeze that might be the only place you feel it. 

My camera in tow, I settle in, start framing shots, and look for my target. It’s then that my mind finally understands, he’s not out there. My son wrapped up his high school football career last year. It seems unreal to me that it has really happened and the emptiness that I have already felt several times over begins to set in. So many things have changed, and yet life still moves on. 

I may not have a “dog in this fight” anymore, but I still know plenty of the other young men who are coming up, and taking the place of all the others gone before them. It’s a fresh new season and I know a lot of Mama’s who will be proud that I’m here with my camera and ready to help create memories.  I’m not quite ready to hang up my Pom Pom’s yet. I think you have to kind of wean yourself off of these things. Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 


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