I don't understand anything about football. I don't know what a first down is, I don't know why people cheer for yards. All I know is that a touch-down is six points and a field goal is one point. I have never cared about football. But, last night when I watched my little brother play JV football was quite possibly the most moving experience I've ever had. He stood on the sideline, his white jersey turned brown from being tackled. My little brother is quite possibly the laziest person I know. Last night was the first time I have seen him work as a part of a team, the first time I've heard people cheer for him. I don't have to understand what a first down is to understand how much that meant to him. There was a water tower next to the field that read "GO FALCONS!" and fall leaves falling on the field. People were screaming and the bleachers were rumbling from people stomping. The stands echoed from "Na na na, na na na, hey, hey, hey, goodbye" when there were 10 seconds left on the scoreboard - it was clear the Falcons had won the game. The Falcons lined up infront of the auidence and yelled "Thank You!"
For the first time, I understood why Football means so much to so many people. For the first time, football meant something to me. When my little brother came out of the locker room with his hair wet with sweat - and quite possibly the rest of his body - I ran up to him (literally, ran) and gave him the biggest hug I have ever given him. I am so proud of him.
My little sister haley is here. I love it when she is here because I feel like I have a family again. Even though on the ride home me, my mom, and her had an argument over whether or not her dad is an asshole. We fought over this because when I was little, her father used to scream at me to look at him when he was talking to him. If I didn't, he would grab my chin and force me to look in his eyes. I am nineteen now and cannot look anyone directly in their eyes. Last night when him and my mother both had attitudes, I said "both of you need to calm down, I don't know why your so stressed out." He started screaming at me, told me to look at him when he was talking to me, and grabbed my chin to force me to do so. I said nothing and obeyed. Why didn't I tell him that I am not a child anymore? Why didn't I tell him to never put his hands on me again? Maybe thats the point - he scared the shit out of me when I was eight and 11 years later, he still does. I wish my little sister could understand that.
We're making halloween cookies tonight and carving pumpkins, and perhaps doing a little painting. We are quite the festive bunch. We are holding on to something we lost a long time ago - our childhood.
I have to go to class today, and I don't think its necessary but my newspaper has promised a surprise so how could I turn that down?