Watching football always reminds me of high school. Not because I was a huge fan back then (I didn’t find my love of the game for another few years) and not because I hung out in stands as many of my compatriots did. It’s really what they call “football weather” that gets me to reminiscing. It was in those crisp, cool nights where I’d “kick the can” with my friends, so to speak. I’m not going to say “those were the best times of my life” —there have been and I know there will be many more— but they were certainly the most carefree.
As an adult, you are lucky for a few carefree hours, at best a weekend, or vacation. You just can’t seem to let go of your responsibility for too long. Past experiences, present events, or future concerns are never too far from the surface of our consciousness.
So many fall nights I spent hoping, dreaming, talking, wasting time like a sultan spends gold—experience not corrupted with guilt or burdens…maybe some longing, but of the innocent sort. It was a time of pure possibility. Now my heart aches for that blithe naiveté each time the chill falls on the summer, as the nights grow longer, and the Colts play football.