“Feels a little cooler this morning.”
It was Friday morning.
I was making brunch in the kitchen when I thought maybe we could go to the par-3 course the next day.
We had taken a break because of the summer heat.
But I wanted to go again.
My husband was sitting at the table, eating an apple and a boiled egg.
“Should we go to the par-3 tomorrow?”
“You want to go, don’t you?”
He smiled.
“Okay. Let’s go. We’ll leave early.”
I felt excited.
I had been practicing my iron shots at the driving range, and I wanted to see what would happen on real grass.
I even told my daughter and son.
“We’re going to the par-3 tomorrow morning. I’m not making anything, so find something to eat.”
But as the day went on, the heat returned.
By evening, the air felt heavy and humid.
And my mind changed.
Not yet.
I still wanted to go.
Just not in this heat.
My husband wasn’t home yet, so I sent him a message.
It’s hot at home. Haha.
I don’t think I can do the par-3 tomorrow.
Let’s go when it gets cooler.
He didn’t read it.
The little 1 stayed beside the message.
And I started filling in the blanks.
He must have dinner plans.
Is he drinking?
Then another thought came.
He said we’d leave early tomorrow, but he’s still not home.
The 1 was still there.
But maybe he had seen the message when the notification appeared.
Yes. He probably saw it.
By midnight, the 1 was still there.
I checked one more time and went to sleep.
Sometime during the night, my husband came home and fell asleep beside me.
When I woke up, it was still early.
Early enough to go.
But the first thing I noticed was the heat.
It’s hot.
That was enough.
I went to the kitchen, drank a glass of water, cut an apple for my husband, and put some boiled eggs on the table.
Then I left for a café near home.
I wanted a quiet morning.
I had just stepped into the elevator when my phone rang.
“Where are you? Aren’t we going to the par-3?”
It was my husband.
“Didn’t you see my message? I sent it yesterday. It’s too hot. I don’t want to go.”
The call dropped.
A moment later, he called again.
“Too hot?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to start the morning like that. Let’s go later, when it gets cooler.”
“I’m already awake.”
“Go back to sleep.”
I hung up.
And on my way to the café, I realized something.
Oh.
He really didn’t know.
All evening, I had been looking at that little 1 and filling in what I didn’t know.
Meanwhile, he had simply gone to sleep expecting to play golf with me in the morning.
Reality had been much simpler.
I Had Tried It
I ordered a hot Americano and sat down.
Then another thought came.
If we had gone that morning, I knew roughly how the day would unfold.
For us, “early” didn’t really mean early.
We weren’t the people starting a round at seven in the morning.
Even when we tried to leave early, we often started around nine or later.
By the time we finished, it was nearly noon.
The first few times, I didn’t mind.
I was too excited.
Playing on real grass was new, and I loved it.
My husband liked going in the morning for another reason.
We could finish before noon and still have the afternoon.
It made sense.
So I tried his rhythm.
Not once, but several times.
And I’m glad I did.
Because otherwise, I might not have known.
There was nothing wrong with that rhythm.
It just wasn’t quite mine.
Sometimes trying something is how we find out what fits.
And what doesn’t.
My Kind of Saturday
I like a slower beginning.
I like waking up without immediately having somewhere to go.
I might make something simple to eat.
I might sit at a café with a hot Americano and let the morning begin quietly.
Then, somehow, my energy starts to rise.
I go home.
Maybe I bake bread.
Maybe I practice golf.
Maybe the day turns into something I hadn’t planned.
That rhythm feels good to me.
And I realized I wanted golf to be part of that kind of day.
Not something I had to fit efficiently into the morning so the afternoon would still be available.
I wanted to take my time.
To enjoy the drive.
To play when the air felt good.
To come home without feeling that I had spent half the day fighting the heat.
I hadn’t known that before.
I had to try another rhythm first.
Letting Reality Fill the Blank
That morning, two small things seemed to sit beside each other.
The night before, I had seen a little 1 on my phone and filled the empty space with thoughts.
I didn’t know what my husband was doing.
So my mind supplied the answers.
But with golf, I had done something different.
I hadn’t decided in advance what would suit me.
I had tried it.
A few times.
I had let the actual mornings tell me.
And eventually, I knew.
Maybe that is another part of just trying something.
Trying doesn’t mean I have to keep doing it.
It doesn’t mean that because something worked once, I have to make it my way.
Sometimes I try something simply long enough to notice:
Oh.
I think I like it another way.
The par-3 course wasn’t going anywhere.
Neither was my desire to play.
I could practice for now.
And when the weather cooled, I could go again.
A little later.
A little slower.
In a rhythm that felt more like mine.
I still wanted to go.
Just not yet.
