Saturday night under the lights felt like one of those evenings where the whole town (out of town, that is) breathes in rhythm. Cheering together. For a moment, we all want the same thing…. A win for the away team.
Somewhere behind me, I heard someone say, “We’ve got a great defense.” And they weren’t wrong — the Dover Pirates showed up, dug deep, stood strong, and walked away with a victory over the Morrilton Devil Dogs.
But for me, the night wasn’t only about the scoreboard. I sat shoulder to shoulder with a baby who wasn’t even a year old yet — she stole my heart, and for a few minutes, the face of my lens. And then, looking forward, my own daughter, Abigail, stood at the edge of the field, cheering her heart out. The contrast hit me like a gut punch. She’s nearly eleven now. The space between one and eleven is only two handfuls of years — but it’s also a decade already spent. A bank account that only decreases.
And that thought will stop you cold. It reminded me of all the “lasts” I’ve already tucked away without noticing:
- The last crawl
- The last diaper
- The last bath
- The last sippy cup
- The last car seat ride
- The last “first” word
- The last night she crawled in bed, scared
- The last, “Mommy, mommy
and the list goes on…….
The eyes of that baby felt like standing at the edge of a cliff called time.
Nights like these are reminders. We only get so many evenings where the lights blaze down on the field, where our children perform for us, where their voices and ours echo together. Where we leave in the same car and stuff our faces sharing the same meal. Last night was proof that life moves fast — even when it tricks us into believing our days are long.
Here are some of those moments, frozen in time — the grit of our defense, the strength of our boys, the cheers of our girls, and the sweetness of faces I’ll carry with me long after the final whistle blows and I pack up my camera on a football field as a cheerleader mom for the last time.
