Not many things bring me to tears.
Nearly 14 years or so ago, however, a spark was ignited in me that would continue to burn hotter as time went on. So much so, that apart from Jesus, it’s one of the few things that leaves wet streaks down my face.
I’ve been continually blessed with the opportunity to trek out to the woods with my grandpa a couple times a year, and experience what hunting truly means. I’ve been able to share the excitement of harvesting my first turkey, first doe, and first buck with him. I’ve also been able to experience season after season without seeing anything.
However, there are no words sufficient enough to describe the adrenaline rush of reaping a long awaited harvest with someone you love so much. This alone makes my eyes well up, but it’s so much more than coming home with an animal. For me, getting to hunt with my grandpa goes far beyond the tangible.
It’s waking up before the world.
It’s carefully placing each footstep, so as to not make a sound.
It’s listening to the birds chirping.
The sun rising.
The air beginning to warm.
It’s hearing bushy tailed creatures convince you something is coming.
It’s your blood racing and your heart pounding.
It’s the millisecond decision that leads to a lifetime of memories.
It’s doing this year after year, reminiscing on stories as if they happened yesterday.
It’s passing it to your kids, who will pass it on to their kids.
It’s a pursuit of passion, independent of the harvest size, that carries on for generations to come.
It’s pausing, and just being. Enjoying each other’s company. Fully taking in your surroundings. It’s experiencing something so treasured that may just bring you to tears…
So while we may see an abundance of animals or none at all, not once have we left empty handed.
I can’t say thank you enough for all you’ve done and continue to do for me, Grandpa. I love you.
-written from my turkey blind, while just being.