Super Bowl Sunday

We can trace our years in the neighborhood by Super Bowl Sundays. Just a few months after we moved in, Adam invited a bunch of boys from the neighborhood over to watch the Super Bowl. Some of them were kids we had been warned against letting in our house, but this has always only encouraged us. We ordered a few pizzas, though not enough because we didn’t know yet how much teenage boys can eat. They slept on the couch through most of the game, and I cant remember which teams were playing. Probably the Patriots won. 

There were the years it was warm and we played the game on the screen in the backyard. The boys shot the basketball and played corn hole on the set one of the boys painted that got ruined because we left it out in the rain. And then there were the years it wasn’t warm and Adam still played the game outside. He was the only one willing to sit out there in the cold.

Every year, though, our little bungalow swells with kids and friends. Inevitably, there is a boy or two who claims loyalty to a team in a game no one else feels strongly about. There was the year Ruhsan wore a Giants hat, and the year we ordered 200 hot wings from Ms. Crumpys. There were no leftovers. 

The best year, of course, was the one when the Falcons made it to the Super Bowl. This was also terrible, because that game was the worst. But that year everyone watched every play, stayed til the end. Most years, Adam drives boys home at half-time, so we can usher our own reluctant kids into their beds. 

This year, we watched the game just over a mile from where it was played. We heard the jets from our windows while we watched them fly over the stadium on TV. When they shot off fireworks, Caden went outside to check if he could see them in the sky.

I don’t even particularly care about NFL football. The Super Bowl is mostly a chance to eat buffalo chicken dip, although this year I made the rookie mistake of announcing it was ready before I got myself some, which means it was all gone a few minutes later and I missed out. 

The Super Bowl is really just an excuse, a chance to extend hospitality and food to our neighbors and friends. To fill our house and yard with laughter and teasing and occasional trash-talking. To find ourselves immersed in the Kingdom, surprising us every time with its simplicity and beauty.