The Normal They Inherit

On the drive to the stadium, I felt it.

That quiet pull in the chest that asks a question you cannot quite shake.

We passed people walking with signs.
Flags. Voices. Intention.

You could feel it in the air. Something mattered today.

And I thought,
should I be there instead?

Should I be standing with them, adding my voice to something visible, something urgent, something that says we care out loud?

Instead, we kept driving.

To a soccer game.

It felt small in comparison. Almost trivial.
A part of me wondered if I was choosing comfort over conviction.

But then we walked into the stadium.

And everything shifted.

Sixty-three thousand people.

Not scattered. Not accidental.
Intentional.

Families. Girls. Women. Scarves. Jerseys.

Not random kits from Europe or old club teams.
Summit colors. Summit names. Summit identity.

It hit me in a way I did not expect.

This was not an event.

This was belonging.