When he first started playing football, she walked. The first time, she got lost and didn’t know her way around the unfamiliar neighborhoods, pushing a stroller with four hot kids and a dog trailing behind her. It was only after she saw the peak of the school with the cross on it rising in the distance that she got her bearings and wound her way back towards it. After that, they established a walking pattern. A stop at the local Safeway for donuts and visits to the bathroom, a short visit at the playground and back to the school where her son was still engaged in football practice. They sometimes enjoyed a short respite at the top of a hill in the shade of the school where the wind blew the heat from their bodies. Clocking it on the car, the distance she walked was four miles. Hers was the only boy on the team from their town and she drove him four times a week because there was no one else but her.

The next two years brought changes. A second son now played football. She still had the stroller, the dog, but now only three kids trudged along behind her, complaining of the heat, the distance, and their thirst. She didn’t walk the now familiar streets as often, as more kids from town played football and their parents took turns with the drive. She missed the frequent walks and the company of her second son. On occasion, she would take her bicycle and just go by herself, leaving the other kids at home to entertain themselves. The mountains would be glorious to the west with their contours and colors of the Lord’s handiwork, and the outing would bring her peace. She sometimes felt guilty when she didn’t bring the kids with her because she liked that there was no one else but her.

Change came again. Like it always does. Her sons drove themselves to football now and the trips she made to the school were now for her daughter. Rarely did she bring the younger children with her when she came. They preferred to stay home and enjoy their summer days doing nothing at all. Her walks were longer now as no short legs accompanied her, trying to match her stride. No young voices complained to her when the hills got high and the sun grew hot. Afterward, she would return to the school and sit on grass, still damp from the morning dew in the shade of a tree and watch her daughter at cheer practice. Sometimes she felt content that her children were growing up strong and safe. But sometimes she would glance up at the tops of the leafy trees and the blue sky all around and a profound sadness filled her with the regret that she was alone and there was no one else but her.