Sweet Memories
Chapter One
“Just remember, deep breath, sight picture, slow trigger squeeze, and then pow.”
Listening to exactly what he said, I took a deep breath, found my sight picture, slowly squeezed the trigger, and waited for the pow. Instead, I heard a click.
“What happened, Jess? Did you forget to load?” Dad asked laughing.
My dad and I have always been close. We constantly pick at each other and joke around. I suppose I have always been a daddy’s girl.
“No!” I said, removing the clip. “It’s just empty!”
I reloaded the clip with five more rounds of Eley .22 ammo and tried again, following Dad’s exact same instructions as the first time, I hit the 10x ring.
“That’s what I call shooting! Now that it has been sighted in, it is time to practice. I want you to work on your breathing and trigger squeeze.” He said as he walked at a slow, steady pace towards the house.
We lived in a rural area, with not too many houses. Our closest neighbor was about half a mile down the road. We didn’t get many visitors, either, so it was always quiet and peaceful.
I have always enjoyed living out of town. It gave us many freedoms that people in town would never have been able to have. We also didn’t have to worry about the police or complaints when it came to shooting.
After about an hour and a half of practicing, it started getting dark. I decided to stop practicing, so I brought my gun and other equipment I used for shooting inside.
It was about seven o’clock when I sat down at the table to clean my gun. This only gave me two hours to clean my rifle, eat supper, clean the kitchen, take care of the animals, and take a shower. I had practice in the morning before school, which meant I needed to be in bed by nine o’clock.
To make the situation even worse, Mom walked in while I was cleaning my rifle.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Cleaning my gun.”
“Well you need to hurry up. Get that cleaned and off my table so we can eat.”
Mom had always been a working mom. When I was younger, she worked long hours and was never home. Then one day when I was about 10 years old, she announced she had decided to quit working to go to college. Now she is at home ninety percent of the time studying for a degree in accounting. So far, she has been doing really well, and is also going to try to get her CPA.
“Yes, ma’am,” I sighed, “I’m almost done."
I screwed in the last bolt and put on an extra coat of oil, just in case. Dad had always told me there should be enough oil on the gun that it flies off when you shoot. It helps to keep the gun from rusting and ruining. Then, I put it in the safe and locked it.
By the time I ate, cleaned the kitchen, picked eggs, fed the cats and dogs, and took a shower, I lay down in bed at nine-thirty. I was exhausted from the long day I had had, but I still had one more thing to do.
I pulled out a small, blue notebook, with a Doberman puppy on the front cover, and turned to the next blank page.
I wrote:
Dear Journal,
Today has been a long and exhausting day. It started by waking up late. I had to finish my homework, which is due tomorrow, and then I had to wash and fold at least three or four loads of clothes, so we could have clean clothes all week. Next, I went outside with my dad to sight in and practice with my .22 rifle.
I have been working at going to nationals ever since my oldest brother went three years ago. This is my second year as a Sr. in 4-H Shooting Sports and I plan to go to nationals. I have been working at it for three years. I believe it is time.
Tomorrow is going to be January 23, which is my birthday! I am going to be 16 years old. Unfortunately, I have guard practice in the morning, therefore I have to wake up at five and leave by five-thirty to be there by six. I am supposed to be on field at six-ten. That gives me time to get my equipment and get out to the field by 6:05.
That is okay, though. I am still going to make tomorrow a good day.
Well, good night Journal. It’s getting late and I need my sleep.
I set my notebook down and closed my eyes, thinking of what tomorrow might bring.
Listening to exactly what he said, I took a deep breath, found my sight picture, slowly squeezed the trigger, and waited for the pow. Instead, I heard a click.
“What happened, Jess? Did you forget to load?” Dad asked laughing.
My dad and I have always been close. We constantly pick at each other and joke around. I suppose I have always been a daddy’s girl.
“No!” I said, removing the clip. “It’s just empty!”
I reloaded the clip with five more rounds of Eley .22 ammo and tried again, following Dad’s exact same instructions as the first time, I hit the 10x ring.
“That’s what I call shooting! Now that it has been sighted in, it is time to practice. I want you to work on your breathing and trigger squeeze.” He said as he walked at a slow, steady pace towards the house.
We lived in a rural area, with not too many houses. Our closest neighbor was about half a mile down the road. We didn’t get many visitors, either, so it was always quiet and peaceful.
I have always enjoyed living out of town. It gave us many freedoms that people in town would never have been able to have. We also didn’t have to worry about the police or complaints when it came to shooting.
After about an hour and a half of practicing, it started getting dark. I decided to stop practicing, so I brought my gun and other equipment I used for shooting inside.
It was about seven o’clock when I sat down at the table to clean my gun. This only gave me two hours to clean my rifle, eat supper, clean the kitchen, take care of the animals, and take a shower. I had practice in the morning before school, which meant I needed to be in bed by nine o’clock.
To make the situation even worse, Mom walked in while I was cleaning my rifle.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Cleaning my gun.”
“Well you need to hurry up. Get that cleaned and off my table so we can eat.”
Mom had always been a working mom. When I was younger, she worked long hours and was never home. Then one day when I was about 10 years old, she announced she had decided to quit working to go to college. Now she is at home ninety percent of the time studying for a degree in accounting. So far, she has been doing really well, and is also going to try to get her CPA.
“Yes, ma’am,” I sighed, “I’m almost done."
I screwed in the last bolt and put on an extra coat of oil, just in case. Dad had always told me there should be enough oil on the gun that it flies off when you shoot. It helps to keep the gun from rusting and ruining. Then, I put it in the safe and locked it.
By the time I ate, cleaned the kitchen, picked eggs, fed the cats and dogs, and took a shower, I lay down in bed at nine-thirty. I was exhausted from the long day I had had, but I still had one more thing to do.
I pulled out a small, blue notebook, with a Doberman puppy on the front cover, and turned to the next blank page.
I wrote:
Dear Journal,
Today has been a long and exhausting day. It started by waking up late. I had to finish my homework, which is due tomorrow, and then I had to wash and fold at least three or four loads of clothes, so we could have clean clothes all week. Next, I went outside with my dad to sight in and practice with my .22 rifle.
I have been working at going to nationals ever since my oldest brother went three years ago. This is my second year as a Sr. in 4-H Shooting Sports and I plan to go to nationals. I have been working at it for three years. I believe it is time.
Tomorrow is going to be January 23, which is my birthday! I am going to be 16 years old. Unfortunately, I have guard practice in the morning, therefore I have to wake up at five and leave by five-thirty to be there by six. I am supposed to be on field at six-ten. That gives me time to get my equipment and get out to the field by 6:05.
That is okay, though. I am still going to make tomorrow a good day.
Well, good night Journal. It’s getting late and I need my sleep.
I set my notebook down and closed my eyes, thinking of what tomorrow might bring.
♠ ♠ ♠
Comments?