“For you, Mom,” I say to the empty room. “Always for you.” One of the overhead lights flickers, and I laugh. “Yeah. I know you’re here. You wouldn’t miss this. Sometimes I can still hear you yelling at me to get the rebound.” I pause, my shoulders heavy and my eyes wet with tears. “Fuck. I miss you, Mama.” I kiss my finger and point up. Feelings in check and ready to shove some grown men into tempered glass, I slowly emerge from the locker room.
