This Really....Does Not Bode Well

Yesterday, after work, I drove to the hardware store to deliver a shipment of printer paper that Oscar had stowed in my car. The chore took me down main street at precisely the time that the sun was beginning to set behind the park adjacent to the school and right as youth football league was finishing up practice; silhouetted in the glow of the setting sun, a young boy leapt awkwardly into the air to receive a pass from his teammate, and, people? I lost it.

Tears. Actual tears.

In that moment, I was transported back to a time when my evenings were spent in a lawn chair on the sidelines at that very park, patiently watching the Man-Cub as he awkwardly leapt into the air to catch a pass and waiting for the sun to set, signaling an end to that evening's practice.

Wasn't that just yesterday?

How is it even remotely possible that, tomorrow night, I will stand on the sidelines for what may very well be the last time, watching the Man-Cub leap into the air (far less awkwardly) to catch a pass from one of his teammates? More importantly, am I expected to do so with dry eyes? Because, if last night was any indication, that is a feat far removed from my abilities.

Honestly, I am tearing up as I write this.

I am so screwed.

I don't even like football; I don't.

So, why am I going to miss it so much when it's over?