So as you know by now my husband was broken. He’s on the mend but it was a bit tricky as to how unbroken he might end up being. For an active guy to have a messed up shoulder, that’s a bit scary. For a golfer – that’s bordering on unthinkable. The hubby is a scratch golfer with what is reported to me as an extremely low handicap. I believe 6 has been thrown around which I understand is quite impressive. It might be twelve but who’s counting? Either way, his mental state over the past few weeks has been at about a 2 which has been a different kind of handicap altogether. Thanks to a nice little pitching wedge, I think we’ve turned a corner in the handicap department.
This is the first winter that Michael has not been able to have his clubs out, even just to swing and practice, when it is supposed to be snowing and horrible. This year it was actually snowy and horrible all winter so the clubs have not seen the light of day for a while. Add in his bum shoulder and I know swinging a club was not high on his list of things to worry about. Just being able to work was top of mind. I’ve got pictures of him chipping balls in January and I’m not talking about anything being stuck to a metal post requiring some assistance.
I’ve been a semi-reluctant golf widow for most of our marriage. Since we are coming up to 18 years, you’d think I’d be used to it by now but no … I still get a twitch of irritation when the bag comes out and off he goes for hours on his own. At least now he takes our daughter so I’m down one kid. I’m sure most wives would suggest I go too but I’d rather watch paint dry and grass grow than chase a little white ball around. Now he’s even trying to tempt me to join him by suggesting I could drive the cart and bring my camera. I married me a sly one ladies. Having said that, I do apparently have a natural swing so perhaps 9 holes is not beyond the realm of reasonable on a semi-regular basis.
Today, when he didn’t realize I was watching, he took his pitching wedge out in to the front yard. This was a sure sign of many things. 1. Spring is in the air and imminently approaching. 2. He’s up to feeling what it’s going to be like to swing a club with a 10cm plate holding his collarbone together. Watching him swing that club was like breathing again. Like being able to take the first deep breath possible since his injury. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until that moment. That glimpse in to the man who single handedly shingled our roof. The man who built our bathroom. The man who works sometimes 70 hours a week so we can save for a vacation. The man who, as it hit me last Friday after the surgeons visit, I depend on far more than I ever realized and for more than I ever wanted to admit.
As I leaned my head against the front door window, I smiled. I watched him swing and test the possibility of his golf season. He swung a few times and I’ll admit I waited for the ouch. I waited and waited. Kind of like we’ve all been waiting for spring and thinking it will never arrive. While the ouch didn’t come, something even better did. He turned and had a look on his face that said, “Well alrighty. This might work out after all.” Then he saw me watching in the window and smiled. Spring has indeed arrived and this year we’ve all got some new beginnings to look forward to.