02/12/2024
Ben had always been drawn to the serenity of the golf course. It wasn’t just the game that fascinated him, but the escape it offered from the noise of life. Early one Saturday morning, he found himself standing at the first tee of the old course by the lake, the sun just beginning to light up the sky. His worn-out clubs, a gift from his father, felt like an extension of his own body.
He wasn’t chasing perfection anymore. The game had taught him that. It was the quiet moments between swings, the sound of the ball hitting the green, the way the course seemed to whisper its secrets to those who listened. Today, though, he was playing for something else—closure.
Two years ago, Ben had lost his father to cancer. They had played together every weekend, the older man always offering quiet words of wisdom. "Golf’s not about the score, son," he'd often say. "It’s about the rhythm of life. The right swing will come, but only if you trust the process."
As Ben took his first swing that morning, the ball soared perfectly down the fairway, and for a brief moment, it felt like his father was still there beside him, guiding his hands. With a contented smile, Ben whispered to the wind, “Thanks, Dad.”
And for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace. Read more stories click here 👉
https://tinyurl.com/yc6k29ma
