Today my Saint Cletus football water boy turns 29.
He was a fourth grader once, too small for pads, proud of his job, serious about handing out water like it mattered. Because it did.
I don’t remember the final scores from those seasons. I remember the faces on the sideline.
Time doesn’t announce itself when it is passing. It just keeps moving, same as a river. You look up one day and realize the kid is grown, and you are the one standing still, trying to read the water.
