A Happy Place

A Happy Place

He went out for some practice shooting with the kids that day. It was cloudy and cool for a summer day, around 65 degrees Fahrenheit with a calm but steady breeze coming from the east. The road to the mountain was short but pleasant. A CD on full blast in the trucks stereo at 70 mph on the expressway.

Then a quick turn off the main highway and up West toward the steep hills, then a right turn leaving the main road into a dirt track going around the elevation, they crossed a dry river creek and finally positioned their vehicle on the side of the mountain looking down with a clear view of the range.

The clouds would make it very easy he thought, the position of the sun would not be a problem when trying to find the best angle to take aim at targets. The sunrays would not get in your eyes this time he said to himself. Sometimes the sun would strike a shiny object lying on the hill and that would blind the shooter a little when trying to fire at a target.

The boys got out of the truck, grabbed a cold can of soda out of the ice chest and they all proceeded to set targets on the hill. The dog was following them up the mountain too. He was a good dog, very obedient and loyal, he had never had such a good dog as this one in all his life, and it was a fine animal.

He remembered the last time they have been up there; it must have been months, three or four he thought. But the place was the same. That made him feel good, very good. It is nice when some things never change he told himself. Nothing had changed there. Everything looked the same just as if time had not passed by.

The cactus and the tumbleweeds, the rocks, the same old rusty cans and gas cylinders people take to blast at with a shotgun, some bowling pins and even some street signs that the firearms enthusiasts love to shoot.

It is very funny how you remember everything that happened in between the time that goes by when you go back to an old place you know, you think of the last time you were there and you smell the air and take a view and you recall all the little pleasant moments you have had since the last time you found yourself there.

Then everything started tumbling down on his mind. The lovely girl, the time they spent together. How he used to talk to her and how she held his hand the very first time they met. The coffee shop, the bar, and the nice couple they met at that pub playing pool and darts.

She was excellent at darts, had the technique taught by her father whom she loved very much. He regretted never asking her Dad's name, he had passed away a few years ago and she had been devastated by it. Her long legs, her eyes and the smile. Her voice with a faint Minnesota accent and now he was a little sad, it was hard to remember all that and it was hard to think that he may not see her again.

The boys were finished setting targets and ready to have some fun.
"Fire at will" they shouted. It was a happy place.