a moment

For 98 minutes, Friday night, Progreso, Texas, was the center of the universe. Home of the “Fighting Red Ants,” hard by the wall growing close to the south, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Two teams, moms, dads, friends and Frito pie – what else could matter? What else did? Next week: homecoming. More to come after that. But now, here, in the sultry, tropical night, only this mattered. It wasn’t football. It could’ve been soccer or basketball or the orchestra’s concert. It was the moment, itself. And he wished all of his and theirs he could do over, once more, just to feel this, then. But that time was gone, so he just enjoyed that which was in its place. Best late, than never.