My father remembers feeling like the ball was traveling in slow motion and he was frozen in place. My mother remembers it was Father’s Day; every dad through the gate was gifted a pair of boxer shorts. My brother remembers watching old episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show in the waiting room while eating a Whatchamacallit candy bar. My sister was too young to remember anything at all. And I remember thinking, in the split second after the ball smashed into my cheek, “Wow, that hurt. I should probably cry now,” and then I burst into tears.

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