We met under stadium night lights, often sitting on cold metal bleachers and wearing team colors. We shared rides, warm blankets, and pregame nerves. We shared tears when the scoreboard didn’t go our way, and when it did, we cheered like it was the Super Bowl—because to us, it was.

Our boys played hard. They grew up in cleats. Learning grit, grind and teamwork. Learning to fight hard, not just for themselves but for others. Learning how to get back up when they were knocked down.

And we grew up too, in our own way. We became sisters in spirit, bound not just by the game, but by the life we lived through it—together.

We shared something sacred. Something unspoken, yet unbreakable. The pride of watching our boys grow into men, in real time. The awe of seeing them leave it all on the field. And the fierce love we held—for them, the game, and for each other.

I remember the way we held hands in a big circle and prayed before kickoff. Or the nervous glances we gave each other when our son took a hard hit. We leaned on each other if life off the field got crazy, and we carried the hard stuff together. Somehow, the bleachers became our sanctuary.

But seasons change, and boys grow up. Helmets and pads get packed away, and with them, the weekly rituals that once tethered us.

We don’t sit in the stands together anymore. The group texts have quieted. Life, with its relentless forward march, has pulled us in different directions.

And yet.

The start of football season always brings you back to me—in memories that live just beneath the surface. When I find a worn-out team hoodie tucked away in the back of the closet. Watching new football mommas post with pride. Seeing little guys just starting the journey we finished. You are etched into these small moments—the kind that time can’t touch.

I may not see you every week anymore and we may not gather on cold bleachers but you are a part of me.

Forever.

A chapter I will reread with a full heart for the rest of my life. A piece of my story that will never fade.

A part of who I was then and a part of who I am now.

To my football moms—my bleacher sisters—thank you. For the love, the laughter and the loyalty. You taught me what it means to love fiercely, and live fully in the moments that matter the most.

You reminded me of the beauty of showing up—not just for the game, but for each other.

Love,
One of You