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Wednesday, October 7, 2015


Tonight we sat on the sidelines on stadium seats attached to the metal bleachers.  We were in a section of mixed spectators, folks rooting for different teams.  I had planned to be not my usual loud Grandma voice in respect of the other team.  Do you know how hard that is when your very own grandson recovers a fumble?  Thank goodness, Mr. Smith sitting next to me was okay with my cheering #1 Grandson.

At the end of the game, #1 Grandson was still all smiles.  His team had won.  It no longer mattered that the play following the play where #1 covered a fumble, his team turned the ball over with their own fumble.  He still was tasting the one moment so sweet when he was the hero.  As Gramps and I were walking off the bleachers I caught #1's eyes.  I flashed a thumbs up and he flashed that smile and waved the wave that melts my heart every time.  Yep, the move was worth every bit we did, every drop of sweat, every cherished thing, all the downsizing and even leaving dear friends.  That one, freckled, sweaty young teen proudly smiling and waving to his grandparents.

Go Chisholm Cougars!

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