Sun 🌞 On Face

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We were booming drives all over the place and missing 8’ putts by 6’.

None of us were discussing politics or Covid.

We weren’t discussing much at all except what hurt on who.

The sun was beating down on us, and a whole lot of water was disappearing from the coolers on the sides of the cart.

Even thought of dunking my gator on the 16th hole and icing my 34 hairs on my head.

Didn’t even have last year’s fashion accessory with me.

And Kathy texted me when we were halfway through. She’d known that I hadn’t been happy with last weekend’s score.

“Better?”

“Yeah, and Pops is unconscious right now.”

I was staring up at the sun when I sent the text.

Felt so good.

Truth of it all was that my back has been giving me fits for three weeks. Got a rough sports massage on Saturday that hurt but man, I was loose.

Getting older ain’t for the meek.

On the way home, I was sweating and chugging a Gatorade. I’d asked Scotty, “wouldn’t it be great if this was the weather every day?”

“We appreciate it more now!”

True enough.

Mood was deflated a tad when I walked in the door and got the first question.

“Did you beat Pops?”

“No, the bastard shot an 84.”

“Wow, two weeks in a row.”

“I know.”

I know.

But man, the sun was great.

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