Reading During the Super Bowl

I mean really, who finishes reading a book during THE GAME?


The “Super Bowl” just isn’t the “Super Bowl” without a house full of teenagers, children, and their families. This year was quite different from years past. Chris and I sat in the living room all alone (even Mo didn’t join us). I made popcorn and read a book while watching the game and Chris fried some mushrooms and zucchini. It was rather anti-climatic. There was no checking stats at half-time to award door prizes, no arguing over the last snacks, no random hall sliding, no laughter, no opening devotion, nothing. It felt strange. Calm. Quiet. Empty. Lonely. I mean really, who finishes reading a book during the game?

I missed the friendly taunting that takes place as one group’s team scores to take the lead or an exciting play arouses the group with cheers, boos, and chatter. I missed printing off 15+ guessing sheets and shopping for silly prizes. I missed cooking wings, chicken nuggets, mini-pizzas, cookies, brownies, and other goodies all afternoon. I missed that sick feeling you get from eating way to much junk food in the place of a decent dinner and following it with incessant, uncontrollable laughter. I missed cleaning up half the night following the party. In short, I missed the chaos.

This year was just different. I watched the game. Worked on some homework. Did P90X. Ate dinner. Got ready for bed. Wrote this post. And went to bed . . . Thinking of all the people and all the fun I so deeply missed. How I cherish those memories!

--Megan