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distilled |
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last game In the mid-night darkness, trudging back to the dorm, an unweildy bag slung over one shoulder, two sticks in the opposite hand. Tank tops, still, in the mild summer night, not much good for playing hockey, you'd think. And yet something drives us to show up at the rink for one last game. This is the end, the final chance to play with this team, this summer. We all skate a little harder, push ourselves a bit more, with the realization that there is no 'next...' When all is said and done, after the buzzer signals the games have been played to completion, the background names and numbers and smiles exchanged, every drop of beer drained, I linger just a little bit longer in the rink. The lights turned down low, the last game of the day finishing up on the adjacent ice surface. Not one overstay my welcome: leave before the last game finishes and the rink closes. Push through the doors and navigate the winding backroads to the parking lot behind dorms. Not heading home, but away. Summer gives one last gasp and falls into memory. |
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