It was over. Tears in my eyes began to roll down my sweaty cheek faster than ever. My last home game of my senior year with all the girls I have learned to love and care for was soon to be over. Even though we won, I still wasn’t happy; I played one of the worst games ever, but I still wish my grandparents were there to support me.
Ever since my sister and I were little we never fully felt like we mattered as much as the “other” cousins. Because we do not live in Campbell Hill, we are not Trico Pioneers. High school is a whole different story. I became more active and enjoyed the sports I played. By the time I was a sophomore, I was starting on the varsity basketball team. I guess that I did not matter as much as Casey or Trevor, my two older cousins. It always seemed like I was put on the back burner, not really worried about too much. Well wrong…I am just as important as any other grandchild.
The last couple years have been harder because I always have to hear how great Casey is, “He has his picture and a football along with his record in the trophy case.” Okay, when hearing it about 10 times it’s great, but do I really need to keep hearing it. Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy and proud of the accomplishments that my cousin has received, but when is it going to be my turn, or even my sister’s turn to be the one talked about?
It was a Monday night game against New Athens, my senior night for basketball. My grandparents knew about this night for quite sometime. But when it came time to play, I look up to the stands to only see my mom, dad, and sister. No grandma or grandpa to be found. I didn’t really worry about it, but after the game it kind of sank in. When I came home I was crying and just upset with the whole night. As I turn to walk in the kitchen the answering machine started beeping, a new message. “Hey there, we were just wondering what time we should come down for Emily’s game tomorrow. Just call back and let us know,” it was my grandma. I was extremely disappointed and upset. One game, that I really wanted them to be at, and they failed.
I have learned to accept the fact that Lindsey and I are just not like the rest of them, we don’t live in Campbell Hill. I forgave them for the fact that they are missing out on something special and that they may regret later on. I don’t hold a grudge or hate them for it, it just is disappointing. Therefore, I believe in forgiving because everyone makes mistakes and I can’t hold that against anyone; I make them too, but I do not always tend to forget.
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