Clubs

Hellooooooo!!

I went to my parent's house today to help them clear out a room. My plumbing had a...mishap...awhile back and my helping them was compensation for their footing of the bill. It was supposed to be last weekend but my dad had a fever so we postponed until today. Everything went very smoothly and pretty fast, very fast in fact, and it was over before it started. I took things to goodwill and moved them around, and my parents sorted them out.

Well, one of the things we were giving away was a set of golf clubs. These were pretty nice clubs, I forget the brand, which my dad bought about 10 years ago from a pro shop nearby. He knows the owner and gets great deals there. Well, awhile back he wanted a new set. Rather than donate his (relatively new at the time) clubs, he decided to give them to me. My mom found a bag for them and they sat in my room for months. I used them a grand total of one time in about two years and plopped them in my parent's basement where they stayed until now. When we were going through everything my dad said "Well, I guess these have got to go too." He sounded less than thrilled about it.

[BACKGROUND INFO]

My dad always wanted me to be a golfer. He put me in Golf Camp when I was little and took me (more like "dragged") to the driving range and courses for play. Being a hyperactive little shit, I was not too keen on golf. It involved extreme concentration, had a slow pace and walking! Oh the WALKING!!

Eventually he realized I would never be a golfer and gave it up. I know it dissapointed him but things just weren't in the right places for it to work. Concentration was very difficult for me and our relationship was not on the best footing it could have been at the time. After awhile, the clubs sat in the basement and we never talked about golfing again. Our relationship is far better than it ever was at this point and we spend time together now, but golf is pretty much moot.

[BACK TO STORY]

When I saw his reaction to ridding the house of "The Clubs," I felt sorry. I know it's not my fault, it wasn't a good fit, blahblahblah, but it still felt sad. Not like failure, but rather more like missed opportunity.

I picked up the golf bag and took it out to the car. We were using my mom's car to drop everything off because it had more room. My gaze kept wandering to the clubs as I put other things in the car. I picked up the bag and something happened. Something weird. I took those clubs, which I had deserted so many years back, and PUT THEM IN MY CAR.

Have you ever looked back on your life and wished you had tried to grasp something (a hobby, a subject, etc) that you couldn't/wouldn't then but feel like you have the ability to do so now but it's too late?

It was one of those moments.

I don't golf. I haven't wanted to. I probably will end up donating them later but what if I don't? What if I (gasp!) went to the driving range one last time just to see how it felt? Who knows?

Now that they're in my trunk a little, guilty voice is asking me why I would be so selfish especially if I won't use them. I can't say with 100% certainty that I won't, but if I don't they will eventually be donated. Maybe. When I get around to it.

I just couldn't let go.