Mental Health Day

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Passed a golf course on my way to a site on Thursday morning. 

Thankfully I got caught at a light and was able to watch a tall, lanky, older gentleman tee it up.

He took a healthy practice swing and when he was in his backswing I thought about yelling, “Noonan!” out the window at him.

(Nod to Caddyshack).

The guy hit a decent shot - was a little left. His partner gave him a fist bump regardless.

“Damn!” I said, as the car behind me beeped to get my mind back on the road. The light was very green.

“I’m taking a day,” I also said, to the interior of my car.

The tee time was the easy part as JC sets them up. I texted a work buddy - “Want to golf tomorrow?”

The “Yes!” came back a split-second after I hit send.

And Friday afternoons in the summer are perfect for mental health days.

“You’re golfing again?” Kathy asked.

“Where would I be on a normal Friday?” I asked.

“Working,” she said.

“Okay. Pretend I’m working.”

And when I think about the hours spent on the course during the summer months I also think about the weekends spent stuck in the house because it’s 🥶 and 🌨.

There are way too many of those days.

To top it off, I’ve heard way too much about close friends and beloved relatives who are battling some nasty sicknesses.

Life is short.

I breezed by the golf course, thinking about the tall, lanky guy’s next shot.

He was about 175 out.

“5-iron or 5-wood,” I thought, depending on the lie.

I hope the dude parred the hole.


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