Yesterday, Rory McIlroy won the Masters golf championship for the second year in a row — making him one of four players to do that back to back. Last night, after we got home from Skylar’s Improv Level 5 Grad Show at iO Theater, Bob and I watched a recording of the final several holes (having managed to stay offline and avoid spoilers). However, being past my bedtime, I was tired and kept dozing.
At one point when I nodded off, I *saw* my dad (who died in July 2021) sitting in his recliner in the den, at my childhood home on Isabella Street, where he loved to watch golf on TV.
Then I woke up and heard the commentators talking about how Rory and his dad (who are from Northern Ireland) had played a special round of golf together a week ago Sunday at Augusta.
Shortly thereafter, Bob and I watched Rory clinch his win on the 18th hole with -13. All of that felt meaningful and magical, especially since my dad taught me to play the game we both enjoy(ed) so much.
I am participating in my friend Mel’s writing exercise/blog hop called #MicroblogModays. Click on the hashtag to learn more about it. Here’s the link to this week’s post and list of other blog entries. Join us!
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