by Keegan Distelzweig | Thomas Sumter High School

I stepped outside, feeling the cold air sweep across my face. As I walked further to the car which we would leave from and stepped in the vehicle, I thought to myself, then closed the door, and we drove off. I stepped out of the car, feeling the air sweep across my face again, but warmer this time. I wondered about the air, about what made the air, and even about where this particular air had been. I walked further, into the building, seeing people laughing as we took our turn. I soon stepped outside again, observing an open area of grass with tall broad trees surrounding it, as if it was hugging the grass. It was my turn.

I stepped up and swung with all my might. I saw it go about a couple hundred yards, then walked away. We drove in a small, not-too-fast cart to find where what we had hit. I found the projectile then hit again, watching it soar through the sky, playing with the birds, but just for a moment. It dropped, fast and forceful.

I don’t think the trees liked me, for I always seemed to hit them. I wondered what the trees thought about this game. I guess they were okay with it, because they had not moved away. Maybe humans should be more like trees — hard-working, patient and helpful.

It was time for the next hole. I swung with all my might and watched the ball fly through the light, fluffy air. Last time I was here I saw a swarm of buzzing bees. Humans think of them as harmful, evil little creatures, but they help our plants grow and pollinate our flowers. That cannot be too bad, yet people still view them terribly. As I find my shot, I walk past many ant piles. Humans view them as if they are lifeless and have no meaning on this earth, yet again, they do. When ants build their mounds, they loosen the soil, allowing air to seep into the cracks and aerate the soil. These creatures have meaning, all of them do, yet some people think humans are the only thing that has meaning. Everything has a purpose. So why do people not care? I guess we will never know why.

I stepped up to take my next shot. I felt the club scrape against the Earth and dig into the ground. The grass went flying through the air before landing not too far from me. I wonder if the grass had the thrill of its life, for it normally stays planted on the ground. The wind blew harder, then the rain began. The rain poured over the trees, grass and more plants that were in need of water. The grass swayed in the wind, almost as if it was dodging the rain. Soon the rain stopped, the sun came out, and the drops of rain sparkled in the light as a gleaming diamond would in a bright light. We kept going until we found the next hole. I swung. A few seconds later I heard a splash, then I saw the ball sink into the lake. I wondered if the fish liked the flying projectiles, or if they were scared of the danger. I hit again. Splash! It sank like an anchor towards the depths of the pond. We moved further, and further, and hit and hit again and again, until we finished the difficult hole.

We were almost done with the first half, and we had about two-and-a-half hours to go. The sun was shining — it had warmed up after the rain — then clouds came and covered the bright sun’s rays of warm light. I shivered in the cold wind of the day, but kept on playing. I hit, watching the ball soar through the air, land a few hundred yards from where I had started. I walked up to it, seeing bugs all around it, inspecting this foreign object. The ball left a dent in the ground and had unrooted some grass. I hit again, digging up dirt from the earth below. I chased after the ball in a cart and hit once more.

I attempted to hit it straight ahead, but it flew high, catching the wind like a kite, and fell far from where I wanted it to go, right at a puddle.

It was time for the next shot. I stepped up and swung with all my might and made contact with the ball as it flew at a tree. I thought to myself, maybe humans should be more like trees . . .

hard-working, patient and helpful.