I’ve seen that look on your face before—I’ve been with you long enough to know when I might see it, so I watch for it. I guess it’s just what a grandma does—I’m on high alert for your hurting heart. I saw your downcast eyes, you didn’t want to talk, sadness was hidden—but barely, because your lower lip quivered just a bit.
After five years of teamwork, your basketball team played its final game. The team had stuck together through the toughest of all losses—a teammate killed by a drunk driver over a year ago. Then you all committed to play even harder. Now, it’s over. I imagine you’re wondering if you’ll make the high school team—some will, some won’t.