I’m not an athlete; I do not have a coordinated bone in my body. But I can spectate. When I turn on a TV, it’s to watch a game, a match, a race. Bill and I fanned it up together in front of the screen — coaching, analyzing, managing. We knew how it should go and what should be done.
Bill golfed, and if it wasn’t a blazer day, I walked the course with him, helped him push his cart and with his club choice. Our boys joined us often. The original family on the course. Banter, competition, tacos on the 9. Handicap holes, tee box decisions, shot advice. Golfing together.
Bill’s game grew weaker with his body. But his mind remained in his prime, always believing he could score lower than he could. He just needed another lesson, new clubs, more practice.
Now, when I’m invited, I walk the course with one or both our boys. Images of Bill’s swing, his excuses (“Ugh! I looked up!”), and his stance walk with us. I enjoy golf with them just as much because somehow, they bring him. We still tease Bill and remember his game. I’m so grateful to keep walking the fairways with the original fam.
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