My earliest memories with my dad are those of Saturday and Sunday mornings on the golf course. My parents were divorced, so when Old Silver, his F-150, pulled into the driveway my heart leaped with excitement. I always spent the night before meticulously cleaning my golf clubs and shoes, picking out what I was going to wear, and practicing my swing in the mirror in my bedroom. It was the highlight of every week. Sometimes we would golf locally with some of my pop’s friends, or sometimes we would travel to courses all over the Midwest. I didn’t care, as long as we were playing a course together.
This weekend we got to do it again. And it was just as great as I remember.
I don’t make it home as much as I would like. It’s only a five-hour drive, but adulting sometimes gets the better of me and I convince myself I am too busy to make the trip. This weekend, however, I made the drive. As I got close, I started to feel the same excitement I had as a child. I had cleaned my clubs and shoes before I left, I was driving as fast as I thought possible without getting pulled over and ticketed, and I was ready to hit the links with Pops.
I grew up in rural Illinois, in a place full of nothing but cornfields, back roads, and pastures. Surprisingly, however, they did turn a few of those pastures into some solid golf courses. My particular favorite and the one on the schedule for this weekend was Timber Lakes, formerly known as Timber Lakes Pool and Campgrounds.
◊♦◊
My dad doesn’t play much golf anymore. He spent his life working hard, laboring, driving trucks, and landscaping, and because of such, he struggles with back issues, but when I got to his house, I could tell he was just as excited about our upcoming time on the course as I was, as well as the time we’d get together.
We spent the night just hanging out at his place and catching up on the last year and a half it’s been since we’ve seen each other. He’s converted his garage into his “man cave” and that’s where we sat. Playoff hockey on the T.V., a fire in the wood-burning stove, and our clubs in front of us getting ready for the day ahead. It was perfect.
We talked until neither of us could keep our eyes open any longer. But when I laid down to sleep, I couldn’t. It was just like when I was a kid. I wanted to doze off so morning would come as quickly as possible, but I was too excited to sleep. Eventually, I drifted off.
◊♦◊
The next morning I woke before dawn, started the coffee, showered, and got ready for the day. Our foursome consisted of my cousin, Larry, his dad, my pops, and me. We spent the five-hour loop talking, laughing, cheering for the good shots, and commiserating for the bad. We talked about life, love, and all the things in between. I hadn’t seen some of those guys in years, but it seemed like it hadn’t been more than a week. We were friends, we were family from the moment we stepped out onto that first tee.
Later that afternoon, after saying our goodbyes, once I had my car all packed up, and was back on the road heading East, facing an hour of unmarked roads before I hit the interstate, I was struck with a sense of longing. I wanted to be back out on the course, with those same people, doing exactly what I had spent the entire day doing. But that sense of longing wasn’t a sad feeling, I realized. It was happiness.
◊♦◊
The moral of my story is simple. Take the time in life to enjoy what you love, and those you love. Pick up the phone, hop in the car, or get on a plane. Do whatever is necessary to see those you care about while you still can.
I love you, Pops, and I can’t wait until our next round of golf. Soon.
#WordsThatMatter
—
This post is republished on Medium.
—
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project, please join like-minded individuals in The Good Men Project Premium Community.
◊♦◊
◊♦◊
Get the best stories from The Good Men Project delivered straight to your inbox, here.
◊♦◊
◊♦◊
Sign up for our Writing Prompts email to receive writing inspiration in your inbox twice per week.
♦◊♦
We have pioneered the largest worldwide conversation about what it means to be a good man in the 21st century. Your support of our work is inspiring and invaluable.
The Good Men Project is an Amazon.com affiliate. If you shop via THIS LINK, we will get a small commission and you will be supporting our Mission while still getting the quality products you would have purchased, anyway! Thank you for your continued support!
—
Photo credit: iStock