Frozen Feet

You stand on the sidelines and you freeze your butt off. The wind is so strong, it almost blows you over. Rain is cutting your face like a thousand knives, and the cold water trickles down your neck and into your jacket. Your hands are frozen. Your feet feel like clubs, because your toes have stopped existing half an hour ago. And while you stand there, wet and cold, you watch how your son gets ignored yet again, how his achievements were yet again overlooked, and how his efforts went yet again unappreciated. You wonder for the 178th time, why the HELL you are there shivering, instead of being at home on the comfortable couch, watching TV, or scrolling through TikTok, having a blast.

And then he comes running towards you and he smiles from ear to ear while he tells you breathlessly how he just caught that really difficult ball and how he tackled his friend over there and how they will win the game next weekend.

Then, in this precise moment, you realize that in a few short years, he will not run towards you anymore, smiling. He will be too cool to meet you on the sidelines. He won’t even need you to drive him anywhere anymore. And you realize that this is why you are here. This is why you putting up with the frozen feet.

In a few years, when you are at home on the comfortable couch, watching TV alone, you’ll wish you had frozen feet.