Well, we lost.
We cheered. We rose and shouted. We wore black to match the boys' jerseys.
But we lost anyway.
The truth is though, it didn't really matter to any of us except Ethan and David.
Mostly we were just thrilled to be in that beautiful stadium in the mountains, surrounded by crisp air and fond memories. There is no place I'd rather spend a Saturday afternoon in October.
The fall weather was perfect. Just cold enough to pink our cheeks and warrant sweatshirts and lap quilts, though it must be noted that many of the Utahns around us were in short sleeves. We, however, wore our gloves and regretted not bringing a beanie for Ethan's ears.
The Cougars scored three touchdowns and a field goal and we went hoarse yelling our praise.
My favorite parts: 60,000 heads bowed in prayer at the start of the game, hearing my children lustily sing the BYU fight song, looking at David's handsome profile framed by the mountains, and the cheering--the roars and groans--that echo off the ancient Rockies. Those giant hills are on our side.
After the game we went bowling, browsed through Blickenstaffs, and ate dinner around a round table with flavored lemonades, where Ethan and David commiserated over a few freak plays in the fourth quarter that turned the game in the Beavers' favor.
Savannah asked why they call it "homecoming." Someday she will understand. For me, it truly is coming home. Back to the beginning. Back to the start. These mountains are the cradle of my adult life, and will always be home.