The Dusty Golf Shoes

When I was younger I wrote an essay called the Dusty Golf Shoes. In celebration of Father’s Day, I would like to rebirth the high school essay in honor of my dad, who I affectionately call “Daddy-Honey.”

The Dusty Golf ShoesGolf Shoes

My siblings and I always loved to play outside. Whether it be HORSE on the basketball court, or skating with our old worn out, blue roller skates on the bumpy drive way, being outside was the best. One hot summer day in particular I remember pulling out our old roller skates. Matching the sizes was always an issue, with six to seven different pairs that we had on hand.

On this day, my sisters and I had all the skates pulled out of the shelf that was in the garage. When I went back to get the rest of them I noticed another pair of shoes I had never seen before. They looked like they were once white, but a thick layer of dust covered their leather face. They were smashed from living under the weight of roller skates for who knows how long. The tassels on the top of the shoe looked chewed, maybe from a mouse or another critter that found the leathery texture tasty. I pulled them out and dusted them off a little. They were big. Much bigger than my feet and the laces were stiff and brittle. I took them out to my sisters who were already putting on their skates.

I ran around to the back yard where my mom was planting some pots and pulling weeds out of the flower beds.
“Mom, look what I found!”
She turned around and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, “Oh, those are your dad’s old golf shoes.”
“I didn’t know dad played golf.”
“Well, he used to.”
“Why doesn’t he play anymore?”
“Well, it’s usually pretty expensive, plus your dad likes to spend his free time with you kids.”

I can honestly tell you, at that moment, a lump formed in my throat. I don’t remember how old I was, but I was old enough to realize my dad’s sacrifice. I got a funny feeling, almost an embarrassed one, like when you walk into someone’s serious conversation and you don’t realize it until they ask you to leave. But dad never said anything about us kids interrupting his life. He never talked about how much he missed his life before us, or how much he’d love to do the things he once did.

I thought about him, working out in this heat, to provide for all us kids. Working hard so that our mom could stay home with us, homeschool us, and take care of us. The thought stopped me dead in my tracks. What other things has dad sacrificed? Do I even know what he likes to do in his free time? Does he have a hobby? Something he does just for himself? I wracked my brain but came up with nothing. I looked at the dusty gold shoes again and felt overwhelmed with thankfulness for my daddy.

To this day, I have remembered this moment. This was the moment I realized that a true man is one of self-sacrifice. A true, Godly man is one who will lay down his time, his hobbies, his life for the ones he loves. It has been the guiding light that led me to my own Godly, self-sacrificing man in Cody.

The Dusty Golf Shoes are just a picture of the sacrificial life my dad has led, and whether he knows it or not his life has taught me more than I can say in words. So this is a tribute to my Daddy Honey. Thank you for giving up your life to be the best dad in the whole wide world. I love you so much.

Happy Father’s Day!

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