The New Life: Progress

I pulled the bow back and plucked the arrow into the sky. As it reached out into the field I lost sight of it. M.C. grumbled behind me, “that’s in the alfalfa.” I sighed and rolled my eyes.

Apparently I’ve lost my finesse for archery golf. But then again maybe I never had it. I stepped back and let the next archer take a shot; her arrow was about ten feet in front of the target. I closed my eyes and imagined having to track through the alfalfa to find my arrow, “at least it wasn’t a pink one.” I thought to myself.

The alfalfa was drenched from the sprinkler pivot, and knee high from the early growth season. My jeans clung to my legs and the water soaked in through my leather boots. After five minutes of it I gave up and left the arrow behind.

I’m glad to be back outside shooting, there is something about the warm summer evenings and that bow in my hand that can sort out any emotion I may be feeling at the time. Sitting on the tailgate brought back memories, memories that would have eaten me alive a few weeks ago, but not this time. Sitting on the tailgate talking till midnight, the first time I remember telling him I loved him, the way he’d wrap his arms around me. The deepest memory was of Abbs, Tedly, and I sitting on their tailgate deciding to go down to Heritage days. It’s the deepest because that was the night of the challenge and the night I realized how much I wanted to be with him. But this time they were just memories.

I didn’t feel pain or ache, but maybe a little longing for last summer. It’s improvement, it appears that maybe the mechanic has fixed something, albeit small it's improvement.