I counted every one.
Travis crossed the sideline in his work boots, moving toward Kaylee and Dad.
They were about ten feet from center court when he reached them.
He approached Kaylee’s other side.
Then he offered her his arm.
My daughter stopped walking.
She looked at him.
For a moment, she didn’t move.
I could see her shoulders rise as she took a breath.
Then she slipped her free hand through his arm.
The three of them continued together.
Grandpa on one side.
Travis on the other.
Cane.
Step.
Step.
Travis adjusted his pace to match my father’s.
The applause grew louder.
Mason jumped beside me, waving his homemade poster.
“That’s my dad! That’s my dad!”
Mr. Halvorson finished reading Kaylee’s achievements, then stepped away from the scorer’s table.
He walked toward Travis and handed him the microphone.
My husband looked terrified.
