Wednesday, May 6, 2009

The scent of Golf.

On Monday I cruised down to Northfield for some quality time with my younger-younger brother. He was a happy camper after a successful performance during his last collegiate tournament. Our round was filled with stories he had saved for our time together. Some spanned two or three holes, pausing as we separated to walk to our shots and then resuming over the sweet clinking of our clubs as we continued toward the green.

This was my first time on the course this spring and my game was predictable: one great shot, one awkward but playable shot and then one embarrassing blooper. But the smell of my golf glove and the quiet moment before each back swing made up for each ball tipped into the woods. I stored my tees atop my ponytail and squinted into the twilight sun to find the pin while we talked about slope, wind and distance.

Much of the week leading up to this visit was spent discussing with eagerness our plans to dine at Chapati. We were heartbroken to find a "Closed on Mondays" sign and stood moping in front of the Archer House for several minutes before Bror proposed an alternative. While "Kurry Kabob" sounded like a second rate option, I indulged him and we soon found ourselves knee deep in more Indian food than we could handle in one sitting. We left with four doggie bags and set out for Bror's abode.

"I'm not going to apologize for how messy and gross this is going to be because it's pretty much always this bad."

"That's okay. My expectations are really low." Nine college seniors and two dogs under one roof looks about how you're picturing it. But I've had a tetanus shot recently and the stench retreated as spring air moved through open windows. Instead, I remembered how wonderful it can be to live in such close quarters with your best friends at 22. You share things, eat together, stay up way too late and host parties with unusual and laughable themes. It's a good time to be sharing dirt and bathtub scum.

Before I left, we walked the dogs around the block and I watched the lights from the Hill shine sweetly over those taking a night run and a few ambling home from the library. These are precious days and it's good to see my brother embracing them with such joy and appreciation. I drove away grateful for these hours and the scent of Golf on my hands.

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