Dear jd journal, i just figured out that life really is a journey. lame, right? - but yesterday was the best day ever! i realized how far i have come, and how far i have to go. as far back as i can remember, i have always loved sports, especially basketball. it’s just me and pops now, since mom died when i was eleven. six years have passed and i hate that my memories of her are fading. she was so beautiful, with an easy smile and a kind heart. she was always ready with a proverb or clever phrase. sometimes her voice still echoes in my mind: “jerome, the longest journey begins with a single step, so get moving-but remember to those who get you there.” i listen to more soothing words: “son, others, not just yourself -that’s why god put you on this earth.” back then her quotes and happy little sayings would drive me crazy, but now they bring me comfort and somehow make me sad, too. pops and i used to spend hours watching basketball. it was our sacred time together, cheering the spectacular feats of shaq and kobe, or chiding the referees for questionable calls against our team. our excited discussions often edged toward debates arguing who is better or who is best between the latest top nba or college stars. sure, watching was great, but i yearned to wear a uniform and use some of those signature moves i saw on espn highlight reels. although i was athletic by nature, i knew it would still take lots of practice to transform myself into the agile superstar i dreamed of becoming. after mom was gone, the cheering stopped. pops and i were wrapped up in our own individual worlds of pain and loss. it was hard without mom. i could not make myself imagine going through life without her. i took no steps toward basketball. then i met coach moses and ms. willow. now, don’t think i am exaggerating about yesterday. my ears are still ringing from the thunderous cheering of our silver fox fans. we closed our season with a two point defeat of our high school rivals, the bulldogs. the game was a nail biter until the last minute. the sellout crowd was ecstatic and now i, jerome dunkin duncan, am the hometown hero! the church parking lot was packed for the 5th quarter basketball party, a local tradition. i was greeted like a king entering his majestic palace. pops, coach moses, and ms. willow worked their way through the crowd. “i’m proud of you, son,” beamed pops. “you gave 110% out there,” agreed coach moses. ms. willow simply smiled, handed me a sealed envelope, and hugged me. pops assured me he would record the local news coverage of my no-look passes, dunks, steals, and fall-away three pointers. it had been a perfect evening. i was walking on air, but grew tired of the spotlight. i left the party and drove home. pops would be in the den, probably asleep in his chair. i bolted upstairs, anxious to open the card from ms. willow and check out my stellar performance. then i flopped on the bed, and bent down to untie my size thirteens. i froze. i studied my shoes as if they just appeared on my feet. pictures of shoes flashed in my thoughts. suddenly, memories of my mother flooded my mind, her voice crowding out my former thoughts of glory and fame. sure, i was successful, but i became acutely aware of the fact that i had along the way. my steps had been guided by family and friends. i blinked the moisture from my eyes, grabbed the card and headed for the den. my abrupt entrance startled pops almost as much as the bear hug he got from me. “ for all you’ve done for me. i love you,” i stammered. i opened the envelope and a gift card fell out for athlete’s footgear. the handwritten words were simple and familiar: “the longest journey begins with a single step. what’s next? love, ms. willow although we seldom spoke about it, that first year without mom was the year coach moses and ms. willow, stepped into our lives. they were both from our church. ms. willow paid for my first summer basketball camp and bought my shoes every season. coach took me home from practice during those middle school years. pops always loved me and supported me. it was getting late, but i had two more things to do. like i said, life really is a journey. look out tomorrow, here i come! sincerely, jerome dunkin’ duncan silver fox #11 a passage written in diary format should be written in which point of view? a)