MILLEDGEVILLE — This year, Father’s Day was one of those bittersweet times in my life. On the one hand, I needed to spend the day with my own father who will turn 81 years of age in August. I am convinced he will live forever, but after 80 … well, you just never know.
If you are a regular reader, then you know that son No. 2 made us grandparents back in November of last year. Now I have to tell you that I am still amazed at how quickly a little 7-month-old bundle of constant motion and Baby Magic aroma can steal a heart.
A couple of weeks ago, Brian called me to say he really would like for us to join him for his first Father’s Day in Virginia. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see my grandson, so I quickly agreed. My own father is a good sport, and I just knew he would understand.
The plan was to drive up on Friday, play golf on Saturday, enjoy a Father’s Day breakfast on Sunday, and early Monday morning I would catch a flight back to Atlanta so I could be at work on time. Mama would stay behind for a few days and help with grandson stuff.
The plan was perfect and came off without a hitch.
Just so you know, I really love the game of golf. I can’t exactly explain it, but there is something about hitting a seven iron in the sweet spot or sinking a 15 foot put with a right to left break that just brings out the Augusta National in me.
For those of you who have played the game, I see that grin on your face. You get it, don’t you?
The evolution of golf in my family is an interesting story. My dad never played, so I didn’t take up the game until after I was married.