6:oo pm. Frustration, deep frustration is the only thought

bubbling in my mind.
I stand patiently waiting my turn at the putt-putt course
in the grass. Ball at my feet looking like an egg with dimples.
I look at my brother looking happy standing next to my mother.
quietly lining up her shot to make the hole.

There are a few other people at the course this afternoon.
putting and having a good time.
I am as they are, only it has taken me much longer to make a putt.
They are making conversation with each other as I stay quiet,
trying to figure out the trick to making a putt on the first try.
My mother has done it twice, and my brother once.
I stand quietly until it is my turn again.
I step up to the hole,
a large obstacle swings in the way going back and forth like a swing.
I line up as best I can and hit the ball only for it to be hit out of the way.

A course of anger washes through me as I think of just throwing my club off into the sunset like a bird flying away, but I do not.
Instead I watch again, as my brother who hits the ball and makes a hole in one.
make that mother 2, brother 2, me none.
Finally I understand how it works, I eagerly take my club and line up the shot,
I use the line on the club I never noticed and gently hit the ball as if it is a soft delicate piece of china...
It floats past the swinging obstacle and falls into the cup,
I am overwhelmed with joy that I run and grab the ball and go to the next hole by myself.
I really wish I would have waited to see the others stand in awe as I sank my next hole.
Hole in one.