“Mom! Dad! Look up there!”
My ten-year-old son, Ethan, nearly jumped out of his seat as he pointed toward the enormous screen above the football field.
I looked up and saw our family staring back at us.
There we were, all three of us, our faces magnified across a screen that seemed forty feet tall.
My husband, Chris, stood on one side of Ethan, while I stood on the other.
Ethan wore his favorite blue football jersey.
We’d deliberately bought it a size too large, back when we believed he would have plenty of time to grow into it.
Now it hung loosely from his narrow shoulders.
But that afternoon, none of that seemed to matter.
He was smiling.
Not the tired, polite smile he sometimes gave nurses when they asked how he was feeling.
A real smile.
The kind that made his entire face glow.
“We’re famous!” he shouted.
