Missing

I miss shooting the shit with guys while we warm up for a night of pickup. I miss soaking the driver's seat with sweat and driving through Jack-in-the-Box for a chicken sandwich. I miss that bone-deep exhaustion the next day, when sitting down feels better than winning the lottery. I miss hesitation dribbles and no-look passes. I miss stripping the ball and sending a pass over the top for a fast-break layup. I miss working on my touch around the rim. I miss catching fire and doing a heat check. I miss listening to guys complain about a call. 

I miss going to random shows, random bars, random apartments. I miss meeting new people I'll probably never see again but having that grounded connection, even for just a little bit. I miss finding parking. I miss looking at a physical menu. I miss burgers. I miss the idea that I could meet someone at a coffee shop or bar and catch up. I miss events in parking lots, concerts, and the comfort of a crowd all cheering for something they love. 

I miss drive-by conversations. I miss listening to the tip-tap-clunk of the ping-pong setup on the school patio. I miss student salutations. I miss the smiles of my coworkers, the decoration of a campus for an event, the energy poured into a project I'm excited about. I miss bringing bagels to the teacher's lounge. 

I miss airports and airplanes and baggage claim. I miss feeling close to people. 

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