So today is opening of the firearms deer season in my state. So, as is tradition in my family, I went to my spot (on my morning microdose of course), my brother to his, and my 84 year old father to his. My brother and I came up empty and were just about to head in for breakfast and my dad pulls in to check on us. After some time and conversation he just nonchallantly says “yeah- I think I hit one…” WHAT?? So I go to check. And sure shit, the old man got the job done! 9 point buck dropped in his tracks. I’m very aware that this could very well be the last time I help my dad harvest an animal. I’m VERY grateful for this day, grateful this experience and grateful for this memory.
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