Monday, May 23, 2011
A Three Story Life: The Golf Ball
Doing dishes (which I don't like) at 10 p.m. (which I don't like even more) and so I'm daydreaming with the stuff on the windowsill in the background, and I spy the golf ball. It's a Slazenger with a date on it and it's parked in an egg cup on the sill. October 27, 1996, Dad got a hole in one. That same day I got diagnosed with cancer. He likes the ball there, it's a good memory. When he notices it, he flips the date to the front. I have different feelings about that day, so when I'm dawdling doing dishes, and freak out when I see the date, I roll it back. And I smile. I hope he does, too when he turns it around again.