One of the cool things about working as a Social Media Marketer, is that I get to meet so many different kinds of people, in so many different locations. I go where the need is; and a few days ago, the need was at Limuru Country Club.
Now, I’m not the kind of girl who gets to a new place and pretends that she’s been at a place like that before. Nope, I am not that kind of girl at all. I’m the kind of girl whose eyes widen with wonder at new sights. The kind of girl who can easily spend hours exploring a new mall. I’m a country girl, and I like to enjoy new things, new experiences.
The first thing I noticed about Limuru Country Club, was that there were a whole lot of people playing golf, at 9am, ON A TUESDAY! I mean, how well do your businesses have to be running, for you to be playing golf at 9am on Tuesday? And also, how much of a morning person do you have to be in order to wake up so early to go to play golf? Or is it that I just don’t understand the sport? One of my younger brothers plays golf and from the prizes he gets, I reckon he’s rather good. He also watches golf movies. *insert puzzled look here*.
I think golf is one of those things into which you can’t just dip your toe. It is all or nothing. Either a full-fledged relationship, or no relationship at all. No casual dating. One of my uncles paid for me to have a golf lesson a few years ago and yes, I will admit that it was lots of fun! The instructor said that I was doing quite well for a newbie; so yes, perhaps there is golf in my future.
I’d like to think though, that even n my future while I play golf, it will not be at 9am. I’d like to think that at 9am, I’ll either be writing, or creating a Social Media campaign, or reading a poem. When my life gets to a point where I can actually play golf at 9am on a weekday, I reckon it will also be at a point where I can write while seated in a cabin.
I picture a cabin that is paradoxically isolated and secure. With large windows and a bubbling brook that is close enough for me to hear the water. I picture a fireplace with wood from who-knows-where. I picture my daughter and I reading beside said fireplace in the evenings. I picture mornings during which I have my cup of morning coffee with my feet curled under me, as I sit at the seat whose position is going to be beside the large windows. I picture mornings with no morning-breath and no bead-head; not because these things aren’t going to be there, but because these things do not exist in my imager’ies.
While at Limuru Country Club, the second thing that I noticed was the scent. The scent of freshly-mowed grass. It seemed to waft across my nostrils. Pleasant and untainted. I’m going to be honest here and admit that the pleasantness of the wafting scent was enhanced exponentially by the view. It is so much easier to enjoy the scent of freshly mowed grass, when you’re looking out of the window at a large expanse of well-trimmed grass. In that moment, staring out at the scenery and smelling the freshly-mowed grass, I wished that I could run across the grass barefoot, with my arms wide open, and with laughter in my belly. I wished that I could do cartwheels across the expanse. I wished that I could run through the sprinklers as they watered the grass. I wished that I could be free to experience the grass and the country club in the way that I’d have liked to. I felt confined; in the seat in which I was seated, and in the proper posture that I was holding as I paid attention to the proceedings of the meeting and took notes.
In my no-so-distant future, when I am be able to play golf at 9am on a Tuesday morning, I wonder whether I’ll still look at that well-trimmed grass and want to leap across it barefoot. I wonder whether I’ll feel the strong urge to run through the sprinklers…after I’ve checked to make sure that nobody is watching. I wonder whether, at that time, I’ll notice how good the grass smells when it’s been freshly cut. I wonder whether I’ll look at those acres of land and want to run through them with my arms in the air, until I collapse in a heap onto the ground, from running out of breath.
I’d like to hold on to the belief, that I will.