Last Basketball Practice Ever I'm walking away from my last basketball practice ever, wondering how something so tragic could feel so unbearably normal. It's a horrible tragedy the way immense events in our lives pass by without making a fuss. I wish they would; I wish there were some way to immortalise specific memories, somewhere to file away all these moments and what I was thinking or feeling as I lived through them, as I passed them by--no, as they passed me by. Because as moments pass from reality into memory they die. All the colour and complexity fades until nothing is left but their significance and the entirely insufficient recollection we have of things we wish we could've held on to.
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