First Time Jitters
Among conifers, Grandpa knows the way. Unable to sleep I stare up at my ceiling with anticipation and soon I’m dressed warmly, brown leather hiking boots tied tight.
Frigid, a creamy, warm coffee would melt me, but Grandpa says I’m too young. From my seat in his truck I glanced back at my rifle in it’s soft camo case, my prize possession. A present that has been taunting me through the frosted glass of the cabinet, dying to be used.
“Again safety is key,” he is saying, finger pointed in the air. Yes Grandpa I know, rolling my eyes to myself. But bulls are large, their racks outstretched like hands toward heaven, hard to miss. I am sure I will be able to protect myself even though I could taste fear in the air. Yet I couldn’t contain my excitement.
Under the breaking lavender and periwinkle sky we set out in pursuit. Snapped twigs grab my attention, a large shadow looms ahead in my path. My stomach sank and I’m solid. I guess I had not planned coming so close to one. Grandpa was too far from me to whisper but I could sense him.
I took a breath and knew I could do this. With my gun raised I had the moose in my scope, yet it fogged with early tears. I pulled away, the gun still raised as the day became a stronger blue. The calf bore through me, tearing apart my soul.
Laoch Lass 