- Playing Basketball - With My Widowed Father

We play this game each time we talk, in person or on the phone, he is the backboard with the basket, I dribble on to find the right positions taking careful aim, as I am trying hard to dunk my well-aimed shots into that hoop so narrow, so hard-rimmed it makes the ball rebound on me — but very rarely, once in a while, I happen to drive one home, that is taken in with wailing sounds, slides through the tangled net, and then, eventually, will plummet, hard, and land right on my toes.