In the pockets of old coats is a history of a life passed. Be it a stubby golf pencil or an old Lifesaver now stuck to the material, it tells a story. In this particular story, Nelson Vicksburg recalls standing on the fairway at Cliffridge Country Club and then nothing.
He remembers waking up in a hospital room, flowers and cards along the window ledge, a nurse writing something on a clipboard at the end of his bed and a stranger on a chair next to him, holding his hand.
There was a television up on the wall with a flickering picture, but no sound. Nelson closed his eyes and tried to take a quick mental inventory of his present condition.
He felt fine, he
could wiggle his fingers and toes, and he felt the person holding his hand give
it a squeeze. He opened his eyes again
and looked directly at the stranger next to him.
“Do we know each
other?”
“Good-morning Nelson. It’s good to see you awake. You gave us all quite a scare.”
“What happened?”
“Nelson, you were hit
by a golf ball, and you dropped like a rock.”
“I’m sorry, who are
you again?”
“Nelson, my name is
Charley. Charley Baler. I was the guy
who joined your foursome. You borrowed my lucky pencil, and I’d like to get it
back.”
1 comment:
Yikes! That guy is all heart!!!
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