The 19th hole is a mythical place full of good memories and relaxing over drinks.
I planned to do nine lessons of golf, but I’d forgotten about the 19th hole. I can’t ignore that imaginary place, that state of reflection.
The Nineteenth Hole is a slang term used in golf referring to a bar, or restaurant at the end of the course. A typical round of golf has eighteen holes, so golfers will say they are at the ‘nineteenth hole’, meaning they are relaxing with a drink after the game.
Of course, I only play 9 holes, so I relax at the 10th. I play at sunrise, so it’s a bit early for a drink. After golf every week, my husband and I eat breakfast on the clubhouse patio, nearly the equivalent of a greasy spoon. I’m not really a breakfast person, can’t stand the sight of eggs, don’t like pancakes or any other batter cooked and covered in syrup, but I like the occasional indulgence in hash brows and a few slices of crispy bacon.
The coffee is horrible — too weak for my taste. We discuss bringing a thermos of our own.
At the tenth hole we watch the squirrels run up and down tree trunks like maniacs and the crows hover, hoping to get some scraps. We analyze the game, talk about our plans and marvel over the fact that we like the same things, among them, golf, getting up before the sun, and books.
Sometimes I want to skip golf, thinking I must put in more hours on my novel, I wanted to write another story, there’s laundry to do, plants to water … but even a compulsive person like me can’t work all the time.
And fiction is nourished in a calm mind, not an overworked one.
Lesson ten: take a break.
