All good things must come to an end.

(photo credit to my Sissy)

This photo Is the perfect reflection of how I feel this morning. You can't see my tears.

But what you can see is a Mama so proud. Not just proud of my #50. Proud of all of them. Like they are my very own.

 I'm not sad because they lost.

I mean, yes, like Mason said...you always wish you could go one more round. But...

Come on. The played Hoover. It's like saying you fought Mahamad Ali. Or that you swam with Michael Phelps.

They played AT Regions Park. Under the lights.

They made it to round 2, when half of the nation was at home. Wishing they would have.

This year alone:
They buried a teammate
Battled numerous injuries
Lost several starters to injuries
Attend the funeral of their Coach's father, as a team
BEAT OXFORD
And made it to Round 2 in the state playoffs. Something no Pell City Team has done in YEARS!!!


But most of all, they found that brotherhood that many men before them have found in this sport, and that's why it's the game it is.

As a girl, I never really "got it". And even when Mason came in that freshman year and said he wanted to go out for Spring Training. I fought it.He wanted to play, his Daddy wanted him to play, and I wanted him to stay home and cuddle with me...and not get hurt ;)

I'm so glad I lost that battle.

These are my boys.

MY BOYS.

And I'm not sad because they lost.

I'm sad because this chapter of our life has closed. And I won't have them every day. To love and hug.

I might not have a house fulla boys on Saturday mornings to feed.

I won't have Fridays full of psycho chaos. Chaos that I love.

So. I'm thankful for this picture. Of me. So proud of my boys.

And I guess my biggest question is...now what?!

Oh yeah...basketball starts Monday:)