The art of moving on

My son turns 4 next month, and it seems that every advancement he's made in his little life has come with sad and happy feelings. Happy that he's "growing up", but sad that he's closing another chapter of "being little".

These are my son's first clubs. They are Little Tikes. All plastic...even down to the plastic bag. For the last 6 months, my son and I have played with these clubs in the backyard...I at one end of the yard...he at the other, as he would smack the ball to me...I'd throw it back to him, and he'd thwack it back. Man, we have a blast!

You can see by the wear-and-tear on these clubs, that he's a free-swinger...sometimes a little too free, as the bare spots in my yard can attest...but I don't mind, because I can point out and tell you a happy story about each divot, sadly knowing that when the grass grows back and covers these worn patches..that I too will forget these stories.

For his birthday he is getting a new set of real clubs-not plastic, but metal and graphite...with a canvas bag to put them in. We are advancing from playing with plastic in the backyard, to playing with graphite on the range.

Where will these plastic clubs end up? Most likely in the basement. I won't discard them...it'd be too hard, and someday when he has kids I'll hand them over.

You see, he's ready to move on, but my heart needs a little more time.

Thanks for reading. Keep it in the short-grass,

JFB