Time Well Spent: A Personal Narrative

 “The most I can do for my friend is simply be his friend.” – Henry David Thoreau

It was a beautiful day, though it was still early, making one want to put a long sleeve shirt on when one waken in the morning. The dew was still on the ground, but one knew around two o’clock they would be replacing that long sleeve shirt for a cut-off during the afternoon chores. A man woke his son particularly early this morning, just as the sun was poking through the trees. The son woke with a jump after remembering what he was waking up for in the first place. His grandfather was taking him squirrel hunting.

“Be careful, Joe! And remember to wear Orange so other hunters can see you!” his mother called after him.

“I know!” He replied, while starting the walk off the front porch and down towards his grandfather’s pickup.

“How’s doin’ Joe,” said Grandpa.

“Pretty good, how ‘bout you” Joe said.

“Good”

They rode out of the suburbs and into the winding roads of the country. There wasn’t much talk except a ‘beautiful morning’ and ‘how is the family.’ Meanwhile Joe sat in the front seat, looking at the camouflage, the orange attire, and the 16. Gauge shotgun, and trying really hard to look cool and contain his excitement. After all, he was 11, and it was his first time actually going on a formal hunt. He had shot many squirrels off bird feeders in the backyard, and the chipmunks that enjoy taking refuge in gutters had grown to fear him, but he has never really been roaming the mountains, just two guys and their thoughts. The grandfather never really talked much. That’s one reason he loved hunting.

They parked on the side of the road and hopped out of the truck. The grandfather grabbed the shotgun out of the back and started loading it. The boy jumped a little when his grandfather cocked it, but then they continued on their way.

They did a lot of quiet walking along the mountain, but didn’t see much. It didn’t matter to the boy, he was in his element; the woods.

“This is strange” Grandpa said. “When I’m hunting deer, all’s I see is squirrels. Now there’s none. Maybe we should sit for awhile.”

So they sat real quietly and then the boy spotted something. It was a squirrel sitting in its nest high up in a tree! Grandpa handed him the gun and the boy started to take aim. He put the bead right on the animal. He got nervous when it came time to pull the trigger. After all, he only shot a shotgun once before, two years ago.

Joe asked, “Do you want to shoot the first one?”

Grandpa asked “Why?”

“Oh never mind” Joe said. So he brought the gun up to his shoulder and aimed again. He could feel the adrenaline from his toes to his fingertips.

BOOM! The gun went off.

“That wasn’t that bad” Joe thought. “Did you see where it went?” he said to his Grandpa. The truth was, he had his eyes closed.

“I think so” Grandpa said.

They walked over to the place they thought they saw it drop. After walking around for about ten minutes with no luck, finally Grandpa found it in a gopher hole.

“It’s a blue jay,” he said, lifting it up.

“Wow, that’s weird. Looked like a squirrel to me,” said Joe.

It was getting later in the day so they decided to call it quits. They went to the grandfather’s house down the street, had a cup of tea, and then he drove his grandson back home. He couldn’t wait to tell his parents all about it.

Joe blasted the radio as he drove down the highway, windows rolled down, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song. It was a beautiful morning, around seventy-two degrees out already. His mom gave him the job of picking up his sister from college three hours away. The funeral was the next day, and she didn’t have any other way of getting back home. As he drove along with the wind blowing through his hair and the morning dew just starting to burn off, he thought of his grandpa. He thought of the memories he’s had with his grandpa, and knew he will think of him from now on when he’s enjoying a beautiful morning like this one.