The Beauty of Art Today

Last Christmas I got up in middle of the night and went to look under our tree in the family room. There was a lot of presents, some wrapped, some not. Out of all the packages however, one caught my eye. It was big and bulky, and there was silver wrapping paper awkwardly taped around it. I touched it and tried to figure out what it was but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I tore a little piece from the paper, making sure I could patch it up so it would go unnoticed.  It was a big red box with the words Golf gift printed neatly on the side. I had seen the game being played on T.V before, and I thought I could figure it out. The present was for my dad, but I didn’t think he would notice at the time. So I did what I obviously shouldn’t have done… I took it. The club felt so right in my hand, and the ball was so smooth. My Dads initials were printed on the ball, and underneath that was “love Maurice” (my Moms name). At first I felt guilty but I pushed those thoughts away with better ones, ones that spoke of swinging and playing and fun. That’s about all I can remember until the next morning. I woke up to see my parents staring at me, lying on the floor, clutching a golf club tightly to my chest