So how exactly did I end up at a high school football game on homecoming night of all nights?
Hmmmm, let's see. It all began about a week and a half ago when Isaac asked if he could have some of Addie's friends over to play. Yeah, I know, weird. I mean what 10-year-old girl is going to want to come over and play with a 5-year-old boy? Even Addie (who in my mind was the best sister ever) had moments when she just did not want her little brother around. Since I didn't think I could possibly bring myself to ask one of Addie's friends to come over and play with our rough-and-tumble boys, I did the next best thing: tell Scott he needed to take them to a football game.
But that still doesn't answer why I was there.
Actually, I can't answer that question. There's really no explanation other than about five minutes before departure time, I found myself pulling out a sweatshirt and checking myself in the mirror. I call it the five-minute window, a time when I either decide to bolt or be bold. Tonight I chose bold.
Typically, the stadium is teeming with kids and tonight (being homecoming and little girl cheer night) was no exception. Toddlers. Teenagers. And everyone in-between.
And then, three of Addie's classmates - donning a heavy dose of face paint - approached us.
"Hi, Jamie!" they exclaimed.
The group grew to four. Five. Then six. Eventually, a whole football team's worth of 10-year-old girls surrounded our family.
And I found that old familiar lump in my throat and tears in my eyes (because of this I'm seriously thinking about pulling a Corey Hart and actually wearing my sunglasses at night).
Tears because there's one little girl missing from the group. Tears because they haven't forgotten her. Or us.
Addie loved those girls.
And we do too.