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The cold wind of a late winter afternoon blew against my back, and my stomach was in knots. I sat on the bleachers and searched the field for him. Children were scattered everywhere, warming up for their upcoming races, and while I had an ear on the conversations going on around me, all I really wanted to do was spot Sawyer. I wanted to see his face and assess how he felt based on his stance, posture and movements from a distance; This is what it’s like to be a mother. It’s like worrying all day about a seventh-grade track meet.