Joy

“Yet love revives as we spin homewards. Joy and sadness come by turns, I know now. But life goes on and on we go, spinning along in a violet light.” Walker Percy, The Moviegoer

Life does go on, and on we go, celebrating milestones and mourning the passing of childhoods that just don’t last long enough. Joy and sadness have come at me like a prizefighter this week, accompanying the rollercoaster of a ride that is senior year, all smashed into one final week of high school football.

Joy has come to me every morning in his texts, thanking me for what the touchdown club has gifted the seniors with that day: lunch, breakfast, goody bags, t-shirts. Sadness comes, too, with all that it represents: success, closure, a finale. Today, joy overwhelms me with a picture from last week's game and a shoutout in the local newspaper. Sadness sneaks up later with the invitation from the school in Ohio. Joy wraps me tightly when the little boys play touch football in the living room, Tucker refereeing as seriously as if he were wearing stripes. Sadness sucker punches me later when Truett asks if Tucker will come home to visit after he goes to college.

Tomorrow we travel away for our last matchup, the seniors' last night representing Indian football. Joy will undoubtedly consume me as I watch my number 7 take to the field, white towel hanging at his waist, ankles wrapped for protection, helmet tucked under his arm as he marches to the 50 yard line for his final role as Captain. Joy grabs me, shakes me, hoots and hollers with me at every touchdown, every complete pass, every run for positive yards, but today it screams at me, louder than ever: "Stop! Look at him! Look at what you've done! You did good." And I know we have.

Tomorrow night, I will shoo away the sadness. There will be no room for it as we celebrate the boy who changed me, taught me, stole me and holds me captive to this day. Tomorrow night, sadness will wait its turn. It will come, I know, probably as we make the drive back to Dahlonega, trailing a school bus full of boys who will step into the next phase of their lives when they step off the bus for the last time; but it won't come before I soak up the sights, the sounds, and the emotions of one last glorious Friday night.

My hope, my wish, my prayer is for him and his teammates to go out as winners, to do what they do best one last time, to enjoy their abilities, to make one last memory that will live forever, one more touchdown pass, one last race down the sidelines, one more snapshot of eleven boys spinning along in a violet light.