Tuesday, October 13, 2009

...Does the Forrest Gump

When my husband and I were dating, we did a lot of things together that we don't do now. You all know that I have redneck coursing through my veins, but I had never been deer hunting until I was dating Patrick. He took me one day, and we sat in the deer blind. I wasn't allowed to talk. He barely allowed me to whisper from time to time, so when the deer walked into the clearing, the Forrest Gump came out in me. I stood up and yelled, "Run, deer, run." The doe bolted not knowing or realizing I had just saved her life, and without even looking back, she was gone. I sat down knowing not only was my work done, but I had also given into my impulse. (Just FYI, impulsivity is a sign of ADHD -- attention deficit hyperactive disorder.) After that Patrick would take me to shoot guns, but he never took me hunting again. It was quite peaceful out there. Listening to nature. Watching nature. It was quite wonderful. I totally get why guys like to go.

The first Thanksgiving that Patrick and I were dating, he killed two does. I met him at his parents' house where we were to have dinner, and he was running late. He wanted me, the one who has tried so hard to deny her redneck heritage, to help him gut those deer. He wanted me to climb all up in that deer and clean it out. It was then that I laid down the rule of hunting as I saw it. If he kills it, he has to clean it and cook it, and I may or may not eat it.  Now, his momma, she went out there and helped him clean both of those deer, but that was her decision and more power to her.

Now, it's that time of year again. I am a hunting widow. I look forward to the day when Pearce is old enough to go with his daddy for all these little outtings, and Erin and I can stay home, watch movies, eat Bonbons, do our nails and do facials. That is also a benefit of being a hunting widow. Before kids, I scrapbooked, and I still may get back to it, but now, my time is with my kids.

You know the first time I ever shot a gun I was probably 9 years old, and I saw my guy cousins shooting a gun. I insisted I wanted to shoot it and that I could shoot it. My daddy showed me how to place the gun to my shoulder, close my eye, aim and then...I pulled the trigger. One thing I had failed to ask and one thing they had failed to mention was the fact that the gun was an antique. It had been my grandfather's, father's gun. When I pulled the trigger, there was an explosion in my right ear that set off ringing. The kick of the gun forced me violently backwards to the point that I landed on my behind and on the way back one of my cousins grabbed the gun...see where the concern was? Actually, they were all laughing too hard to move fast enough to catch me and my tiny hiney before it hit the ground. My daddy had tears rolling down his eyes as they all examined the shiner on my shoulder where the butt of the gun had kicked it.

I know there are women who hunt. It's just not me, and to be honest, Patrick needs his time away like I need mine occasionally.

I am so thankful that God makes us all different. I'm glad God has a sense of humor and that He has given us a sense of humor if we don't take ourselves too seriously. I'm thankful for the changing of the seasons. I'm thankful for Thanksgiving and time with family. I'm thankful that my being a hunter wasn't a requirement of my husband's in order for me to date him because it is a rare man who can live with a strong-willed, ADHD woman. Thank you, God, for Patrick.

1 comment:

  1. Awe! So sweet!

    And by the way- I would have shouted for the deer to run, too.


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