For days and days, I had the date highlighted on my calendar. “Golf day.”
It was a strenuous time at work. I simply could not get away. The demands of my professional duties left me no time for golf. I so look forwarded to that day emblazoned in red ink, with yellow marker background: “golf day.”
That day, my day, golf day, was horrible. We all know how new york tee times can be. When I finally had time for golf, golf had no time for me. Every last minute on the green was booked, taken, marked by someone else. I was disappointed to the point of devastation.
I did spend golf day on the green, of sorts. I mowed my grass. I mowed my neighbor’s grass. I mowed my ex-wife’s grass. It was golf day, my day, but I was locked out of paradise.
Throughout the sweat of that miserable afternoon of mowing-an afternoon whose humidity would have still been redeemed with a great golf game-I did deep thinking. I decided I needed to change my life.
I needed to change my life by finding a new course, a new venue for golf. Never again did I want to face the horror of being denied a tee-time. Never again did I want golf day, my day, to be reduced to a day of mowing grass.
The blue sky seems a deeper shade of blue when you peer up at it from the shadow of a visor between holes in a golf game. Nothing in the world seems more precious than a nine-iron that sparkles as you grab hold of it. There’s no sight more beautiful than a golf ball you just hit flying through the air like a bird dancing on the wind.