Welcome to the island of misfit toys.

What about when someone doesn't need a shoulder? What if they need the arms?

The outside lights were on, and it was snowing, and it looked like magic. Like we were somewhere else. Like we were someplace better.

I look at the field, and I think about the boy who just made the touchdown. I think that these are the glory days for that boy, and this moment will just be another story someday because all the people who make touchdowns and home runs will become somebody's dad. And when his children look at his yearbook photograph, they will think that their dad was rugged and handsome and looked a lot happier than they are. I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.

It is important to say "sir" at these moments. And if they ever call you by your first-middle-last name, you better watch out. I'm telling you.

Maybe it’s sad that these are now memories. And maybe it’s not sad.

The reason I am thinking so far in advance is because school is terribly lonely. I think I've said that before, but it's getting harder every day.