My First Shot

Author's Note: This is my personal narrative piece. I hope that it demonstrates that I can include dialog in my writing.

Squeak, squeak, squeak the shoes were making one of the most repetitive noises possible on the light green grass on a wet Saturday morning in late August. Slowly my dad and I walked down a small but exquisite nine hole golf course Menomonee Falls. Although it was only two weeks after my first golf lessons I've ever had, I still wanted to go out to a gold course jut because it was my first time golfing with my dad. Finally we were readying up for the first hole, and I was ready for my first shot. 

When we first got the course it was surprising that there was nobody there, but when we walked in the lady at the desk said the course had just opened five minutes ago.  After my dad and I got our cart we drove up to the first tee.  The first hole was a simple par three with a pond a third of the way through the hole.  Since my dad hits farther he tees up at the back tees.  Then after a few practice swings he was ready to drive."Ready for a perfect drive," he said.  "Whatever you say," I replied back doubtfully.  I was expecting a decent drive from him, considering he hasn't  golfed since February,  when we were in Florida. As he stepped  up to the tee I was still doubtful, but as soon as he hit the ball of my doubts vanished.  The drive was perfect right smack in the middle of the fairway.  Now it was time for the kid that had never even been on a legitimate golf course.
    

Since it was my first year golfing I didn't have my own clubs yet, so I pulled out the shiny silver driver that I was borrowing from my Grandma. After I took some practice swings and was ready to hit I started to get butterflies in my stomach, the first shot was right over a little pond.  If I didn’t  make it over it would land in the pond.Soon after I remembered I was only golfing with my dad. That thought completely erased any nervousness I still had.  Then I got my stance ready to shoot.  My backswing was perfect, but I got under the ball too much.  The white Nike ball went sailing just barely making it over the pond.   

Although my first shot was easily the most memorable shot, that day in general was one of my favorite.  From now on I will respect golfing much more than I used to.  Whenever I go golfing with my dad again, I will always remember my first shot.