Late in the fourth quarter, our team scored.
The entire stadium erupted.
Chris jumped up, shouting with excitement.
Ethan grabbed both our hands and pulled himself upright between us.
He was laughing so hard he could barely make a sound.
His little tabletop football game slipped sideways.
One plastic player fell onto the concrete beneath my seat.
I saw it happen.
Normally, I would have rushed to retrieve it.
Or reached for my phone to capture Ethan laughing.
But this time, I did neither.
I simply stood there with my family.
Cheering.
Laughing.
Holding my son’s hand.
For those precious seconds, I wasn’t thinking about hospital appointments.
I wasn’t imagining the future.
I wasn’t counting the moments we might have left.
I was completely present.
Eventually, Ethan noticed the missing player.
“Mom! My football guy!”
I bent down, retrieved the tiny orange figure, and handed it to him.
