Friday, April 27, 2012

A Field Guide By Megan Peck

Posted By on Fri, Apr 27, 2012 at 10:00 AM

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Ahhh, Fiesta, and though this week’s story isn’t about the event it is about belonging. The camaraderie of golf is much like that of Fiesta. That may be stretching it a little but you get my meaning. Anyway, happy Fiesta and happy reading. Please send your stories, and comments to flashfiction@sacurrent.com.

Virtual, linguistic cascarone below.

Lyle Rosdahl

A Field Guide By Megan Peck

I grip the club and eye the little white ball on the tee.  One.  Two.  Three.  Let her rip.  The thing flies with flecks of loosened grass through the air before veering right, descending into the manicured shrubs across the street.  A ladies club stalks around the green behind us like flamingos: high, round centers of gravity teetering on long legs.  Their diamond charm bracelets flutter in the sunlight as they fan themselves with rolled up magazines and pat their brows with folded towels. Shit. Language, kiddo, my Dad says.  Language. Dad’s drive is better—elegant, even.  One, two, a graceful strike, we both blink our eyes, and the ball lands putting distance from the hole.  In that single studied arc I see years of discipline.  He squints and grabs the brim of his ball cap, biting his lower lip thoughtfully, satisfied with his work. Nice, Dad. He looks at me; he smiles.  He would be an albatross, like the wide-winged birds he flies to points south of Miami.  His olive skin is burnt dark and the creases at his eyes and forehead have turned, most certainly, to wrinkles. One of the flamingos looks our way, coy. I squat down and snatch the little unmoored disc of grass and stamp it back into place.  In golf, you have to clean up after yourself.  There is etiquette.  When you drag your white shoes through the sand, you have to drag the rake back over it.  This is for the sake of the ladies and gentlemen. I wipe my dirty palms across my white shorts, and we move forward.  I don’t feel like a bird of any kind, but—whatever I am—I’ll fly with them. --- Lyle Rosdahl, a writer living in San Antonio, edits the flash fiction blog & best of in print for the Current. He created, facilitates and participates in Postcard Fiction Collaborative, a monthly flash fiction response to a photo. You can see more of his work, including photos, paintings and writing, at lylerosdahl.com. Send your flash to flashfiction@sacurrent.com.

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