It was early Saturday morning, with dew still clinging to the greens and a light fog hanging in the air. The green sloped gently from right to left, and the elevated front made the hole hard to see. I hit a draw into the green, knowing it had a chance.
As we walked up, the dew told the story. You could clearly see where the ball landed and the path it took as it rolled straight into the cup. It was one of those quiet, perfect moments that golf gives you once in a while—made even sweeter by good friends there to share it.