22
On the Course
Marissa Oshona
It could be raining,
But it wouldn’t matter.
It could be windy,
But it wouldn’t matter
It could be below zero,
But it would not matter,
Nothing matters when I step up to the tee box.
I walk up and sink the tee into the ground till my fingers brush against the grass.
Standing up I create a target line and aim.
I only see the flag and fairway in-between.
There is no sound.
There are no problems.
Just the ball and me;
We are one.
Taking a deep breath, I stand over the ball.
I count 1, 2, 3, 3, 2, 1 as I find my rhythm.
I bring the club up to the top,
And then let it fall back down.
Holding my finish it reaches my ears,
The enchanting sound of a sweet spot being hit.
It is only now that I see the water in the middle and bunkers near the green.
I hear my coach say “good ball”.
But one look at my face and you see I’m already planning my next shot.
All I have to do is sink the putt and I have a birdie.
I smile and start on with my clubs on my back.