Beverly, 90 years young, had played golf every single day since her retirement 25 years ago. The game wasn’t just a hobby — it was her routine, her joy, her way of staying active and sharp.
But one evening, she came home looking defeated.
“That’s it,” she told her husband, Gus. “I’m quitting golf. My eyesight has gotten so bad that once I hit the ball, I can’t see where it goes anymore.”
Gus, who had just celebrated his 103rd birthday, slowly got up, made her a cup of tea, and smiled.
“Why don’t you take me with you tomorrow and give it one more try?” he suggested.
Beverly looked at him skeptically. “You’re 103 years old! What help could you possibly be?”
Gus puffed out his chest proudly. “I may be old,” he said, “but my eyesight is still perfect. I’ll watch where the ball lands.”
The next morning, Beverly decided to give it one last chance. They arrived at the golf course, and with a deep breath, she lined up her shot.
She swung.
It was a beautiful hit — straight and strong, disappearing into the distance.
Beverly turned to Gus anxiously. “Did you see it?”
Gus nodded confidently. “Yes, I saw it perfectly.”
Relieved, Beverly smiled. “Great! So where did it land?”
Gus paused.
He frowned.
Then he scratched his head.
And finally he said…
“I don’t remember.”
