And here’s the rationale and the prompt for this week. “…recent events in the real world have made this month not quite a great one for me and I could use a little of your company if you can spare the time. Who knows? It might even help you stick to a writing resolution you might think of starting in a week or so!
This week, tell me something uplifting. A moment of kindness between strangers, a child experiencing the joy of giving, a happy surprise for someone deserving. It might seem a little sappy, but if it does, fix it to suit you. As always, interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. I always love to see the creative ways you drift. Hope you have a wonderful holiday celebration filled with light and love and togetherness! And hope to see you Friday with some lovely stories for everyone to read!”
What could be more uplifting than a father and son spending time together. This week’s story goes into a flashback as dad and son wake up early to “hunt the great whites.” Enjoy. Oh and you should still have time to create your own entry! Head on over to Wendy’s place and find out what you need to do to enter.
“’Vegetarian’ is just an old Indian word for ‘lousy hunter.’” My co-worker had been giving me a rough time for the last five minutes. That’s why I didn’t mention my eating choice very often. People just didn’t understand.
“I’m actually a very good hunter,” I said. I smiled as I thought about it. “I just don’t eat what I shoot.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s just disgusting. I can’t imagine killing an animal and just wasting it.”
I smiled. “I don’t waste any animals. And, you might like to know that I’m taking my daughter shooting this weekend.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “Well, I’ve heard about hunters donating the meat from their kills, so maybe you’re telling the truth.” He shook his head as he walked away. “I still don’t understand vegetarians.”
I smiled as he walked away. My mind drifted back many years.
“Jesse, wake up.” My dad was whispering as he shook me gently.
“Mmmnn uhmmmm,” I moaned. I didn’t want to wake up.
“They’re here. We have to go now. We don’t have long to hunt.”
I let him drag me out of bed and threw some old clothes on. He handed me a Pop-Tart as we headed towards the car. I ate it slowly as dad drove us to our blind. As I began to wake up during the drive, I began to get excited. My dad had told me about these birds forever, and now I was going to get my chance to shoot them. Slowly I began to start talking to my dad as discussed what we might see and how we might shoot these birds.
We got to the parking place and grabbed our gear from the car. Our breath fogged the way in front of us as our feet crunched on the frosty grass as we walked to the blind. Talking not only wasn’t needed here, it would have broken the magic of the moment. We could see the birds dancing in the distance, but they were too far away to shoot right now. My dad has prepared for this night all year. The entrance to the blind had been set back far enough away that we could enter and get to the main area without disturbing the whooping cranes.
We got to the main blind area. I looked through the window before getting my gear out. “Whoopers!” I whispered to my dad. I was entranced with the beauty of their dance. I had heard about them ever since I was old enough to understand, and now my dad was taking me to shoot them.
I put the bag on the bench and almost reverently took the gear out. My dad had bought me a new Canon just for this shoot. He let me borrow his telephoto lens for this occasion. I slowly fit it to the camera and raised it to shoot. I clicked with abandon, making sure that I would get some good shots. No picture could capture the beauty of these animals and their dance. After a while I stopped taking pictures and looked up at my dad. “Thanks, dad,” I said. I wiped a tear away from my eye. We stood there watching for a few more minutes before it was time to head back home.