我们到第六个发球区时，我仿佛又再度陷入了爱河。我觉得自己就像是一位正陪伴着白马王子的新娘，而此时正努力追赶白色小球的丈夫也突然变得是那么迷人。
当我们到达第七个发球区时，我感到他看我的时间还胜于球，“眼睛看着球。”我嗔怪他。
“不，我喜欢看着你。”他回答。
那一刻他决定和我一起坐球车，这回他也不介意我把车开得飞快了。到达第八个发球区时，我们的手已经握在了一起。他握着我的手是因为一时害怕还是他喜欢这么做，我不得而知。不管怎样，我都喜欢他握着我的手。我们已经好久没有手握手了。
第九洞，是最后一个洞，也是最棒的一洞。下车之前，他竟然倾身过来吻我。“你能来我真高兴，”他说，“我非常开心。”
“下星期我们还来，好吗？”我问，然后我们都笑了。
“好啊，下次我们要打十八洞。”他肯定地说。他用力将球击了出去，球飞进了树林里。然后我们哈哈大笑着去找打丢的球。
这次，我没有任何怨言，丈夫很开心，我很喜欢他的陪伴。高尔夫成了我们共处的一个不错的借口。
我们不仅找到了丢失的球，也找到了彼此的那份爱。
至 爱
Moments of Love
佚名 / Anonymous
By David S. Pisetsky， M. D.
When I first saw her， she was walking across the med-school quad. I stood motionless as if stunned， following her with my eyes. She is the one， I said to myself.
It was the first day of school. When I asked a classmate about her， he told me to forget it. She has a boyfriend， he said.
A few months later I heard she'd ended her relationship. But I waited at least half a year to ask for a date. When I telephoned her dormitory and asked nervously for her， I transposed the syllables of her first and last names into ludicrous garble. "Dinner on Saturday？" I proposed， embarrassed and expecting rejection. "I would enjoy that，" she answered， sounding pleased.