my bulldog.

I grew up in a small town somewhere in south west Georgia. Somewhere that was filled with miles of crops, lightning bugs, and big oak trees. I grew up in a town where everyone knew my name and everyone knew my business. I loved the town I grew up in from the mayhaw jelly to the nosey neighbors, but the best thing about where I come from is the Friday night football. 

I always joke that they put something in the water down there in good ole Georgia that makes the natives crazy for football. I must have drank a lot of that water growing up, because even though it's been over ten years since I left my hometown, I'm still a bit fanatic over Georgia football. I still had hopes and dreams that my boys would travel down to the University of Georgia with full ride football scholarships. And I pictured the day that all four of my male rugrats came home for Thanksgiving sporting their red and black jerseys. 

That was one of the dreams that were crushed the day I saw Handsome's MRI scan. One of the pictures in my head that slowly turned to black and white. A team of doctors shattered those images on that June day when they told me my son had brain atrophy. I cried for days, this whole past month even, coming to terms with the fact that I'd never see my third son play high school football. I'd never see him graduate. He'd never take a fall trip to Athens, Georgia and he'd never wear UGA colors....

WAIT! 

HOLD UP! 

REWIND!

No one said Handsome would never wear UGA colors. They told me he was sick. They told me he didn't have a long life expectancy. They said he'd never walk. But no one said my baby boy couldn't be the toughest Bulldog Sanford Stadium ever seen. 

My dreams for Handsome may need a few alterations, but they can definitely still come true...