Linda’s granddaughter thought Saturday mornings were for cartoons. Then she spent one at Grandma’s house and discovered that, at six-thirty, Grandma was already in court shoes, checking the zipper on her paddle bag. “Where are you going?” Evie asked. “Pickleball.” “Are you good?” Linda considered this. “You’ll have to ask the people I beat.”

Evie sat beside the fence with her mom, watching Grandma bend her knees and tap her paddle against her partner Ray’s. At home, Linda let Evie win card games. Here, she chased the ball to the corner, sent it back low, and called the score with a grin. “She doesn’t let them win,” Evie whispered. Her mom shook her head. “Not a chance.”

During the second game, Linda slipped reaching for a short ball and scraped her knee. Play stopped while she checked it and tended to it beside the bench. Evie came over, suddenly quiet. “Does it hurt?” “A bit.” Linda rested her paddle across her lap. “Want to sit with me?” Evie leaned against her shoulder until Linda was ready to stand.

When the final ball landed beyond their opponents’ reach, Linda and Ray threw their free hands into the air. At the fence, Evie stared at the woman who made her pancakes into rabbit shapes. Linda crouched beside her. “What?” “You were different out there.” “Different how?” Evie searched for the word. “Like you really wanted it.” Linda smiled. “I did.”

“What happened?” Evie asked. Linda held up her paddle. “I won.” Evie laughed, then looked toward the empty court. “Will you teach me?” Linda handed her the paddle and went to fetch a ball. Evie’s first shot barely reached the net. Grandma sent it gently back.

On their way home, Evie asked, “When I get good, will you let me win?” Linda looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Nope.” Evie hugged the borrowed paddle. “Good.”

Who reminds you there’s still more to play for? A little care for the person who keeps showing up, with NutriCore Vital’s no-touch wound spray for tender skin.

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