One more time

This was written after the last football game of his high school career, 23 November 2018, Semifinals for the TSSAA Division 1 5A playoffs Beech vs Henry County. I’ve debated about sharing this because it is so close to my heart. But, here it is, for all my football mommas.

One more time momma? He handed me his football bag as he walked through the door a little after 1 in the morning. It’s the morning after Black Friday rush for everyone else but for us? For us it’s the close of a chapter. The end of an era.

His 20 year old sister is asleep on one end of our reclining couch in the living room and her boyfriend is sleeping on the other. They came in earlier today, unexpectedly, to visit with us and then travel further west to visit more family. While I was waiting on him to get home I kept glancing at the two of them on the couch, wheels turning, but no words being produced. I couldn’t quite catch the avenue my mind (led by my heart) was attempting to stroll down but I could tell it was uncomfortable.

I sat alone in the kitchen at the island listening to the quiet, watching for him and glancing at her. I knew tonight would be a little later than normal because they would all stand around talking, joking, rehashing this last game of the season. But that’s ok…moms never mind waiting up, do we? I finally saw his headlights coming up the driveway and scooped our smallest dog into my arms so that she wouldnt wake the entire house when he walked in. He hugged me hello and that’s when, with a smile on his face, he handed me the bag and the avenue I’d been lost on finally came into focus and became known.

Their entire lives, it’s always one more. One more cookie, one more song, one more story when they are children. They then become teenagers and it’s 5 more minutes, 5 more dollars, one more item to make their latest obsessive collection complete. We give it, mostly, begrudgingly and we rarely regret the times we don’t because we tell ourselves there will always be a “one more”. Except there won’t. There comes a time when the one more is no longer requested of you the way it always has been. There comes a time when someone else will be the one they turn to. Like her. Turning to the boy sleeping so close to her.

He hands me the bag and grins slyly. One last time momma? One more time? He’s tired. And wet. And cold. And I know that he is all those things but he still takes a little time to love on his momma in the dark. I’m tired. I’m cold. And I have a long day ahead of me after the few short hours I will sleep. I smile though and take time to love him back. With pleasure, I answer.

So I cried over dirty socks tonight. As I pulled his Nike DriFit pants and shirt from his bag, my hands ran over the mud caked into each seam and thread, spraying a pretreater on them, working it into the stains. Once I was satisfied with the work on them being completed, I reached for the Adidas socks whose color had transformed from white to murky brown.

It’s a little ridiculous, the power a pair of socks can have on you. This pair, as I rubbed stain remover into them, held every hit, every win and every loss from this almost Cinderella season. As I worked, as my efforts doubled and redoubled, my tears began to fall, aiding my progress. With each rub, with each massage of the fabric, the truth of the moment screamed louder and louder. This is the last time his football gear will streak the white of my washing machine with mud. Tonight is the last night I will ever watch either one of my children under the stadium lights on Friday night. Soon, entirely too soon, I will walk into the living room and it will be him at 20 years old, crashed on the couch or the spare bedroom, home for a quick visit.

I think as moms, it isn’t the end of them being at home…it isn’t the end of the season, the graduation or the emptying nests that break our hearts. It’s the end of the “one more time”. We spend our adult lives, focused and driven solely on bringing our children up and preparing them for the world ahead. We spend our moments intent on capturing every memory, every experience, locking it away for future reflections. Our thoughts and our hearts walk around outside our bodies, vulnerable and fragile in a world ready to take their innocence sooner than we could have ever imagined. When we hear one more time for the last time, we realize that in all the teaching, all the loving, correction, guiding, praying and protecting, we forget to also prepare ourselves for what comes next. We focus so much on their preparation for their future, we miss the pause, the moment to think about ours.

It’s now 2:00 a.m. and I lay here in bed, tears wetting my pillow, with the echoes of this one more time racing through my mind. As I try to find clarity in the chaos of the quiet, I realize peace can be found in those dirty socks soaking in my laundry room. Just as they do, I hold each moment in my heart. Every victory, every defeat has been branded on my soul and gives knowledge that I gave them all I could, the best I had, just like he did…just like she did. As the era of one more time ends and they step out into the world, ready to conquer it with all they’ve learned, it is with confidence because of the stains in the threads. I realize I carry those stains too and that’s where the peace comes in. Maybe I really did prepare myself, after all. Maybe, somewhere in the rush and bustle of our lives, without concious effort, I allowed the stains to pad my heart for what comes next. So I close my eyes to find rest, thankful for both of them being together under my roof….one more time.

This picture was the last game picture we took together, the same night this was written. Since then, he has found another field, another stadium to call home. Will will soon be signing his commitment papers for Aurora Univeristy and as of this coming fall will be an AU Spartan.

And so, the journey will continue.