By Katie Manning
She was the oldest of my grandparents, but the last to die. This did not surprise me. She always stayed until the end. When other folks were slinking down the stairs and hoping to beat traffic, we were still in our seats, or more often on our feet, shouting for our hockey team to score, even if they were losing. Especially if they were losing. Grandma 
said you never know what could happen at the end—if you leave, you could miss the most exciting part. And we shouted even louder when the players were fighting on the ice. I always thought we were cheering for them to keep fighting, and maybe we were, but maybe we all just needed to yell. I think of my grandma every time I insist that I can’t leave—not just hockey games, but baseball and soccer, any concert, any movie, any event where there might be a comeback or a surprise bonus at the end. I quote her to whoever is with me. I plant myself more deeply when others slip away. I keep hoping it’s still possible to win.
Katie Manning is the founding editor of Whale Road Review and a professor of writing at Point Loma Nazarene University. Winner of the Main Street Rag Poetry Book Award for Tasty Other, she’s the author of eight poetry collections, most recently Hereverent (Agape Editions, 2023) and How to Play (Louisiana Literature Press, 2022). Her writing has been featured on Poetry Unbound, Tangle News, Verse Daily, and many other venues. Find her online at katiemanningpoet.com.
MoonPark Review 