Ritual

The calmness settles over me, the world has been compressed to a small clear window surrounded by black. Through this window I watch a small black dot jump with every heartbeat. I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, the smell of fresh cut grass fills the air. I feel the presence of my father standing slightly behind me to the left.
The dot has stopped jumping. Exhaling slowly, I squeeze the cool metal under my finger. Thunder rolls, across the field a small hole appears in the dot. "Oh yeah, it's on." I hear my father say, his voice muffled by the headphones over my ears.

The above is something me and my father have done for years. Every time I go home we spend quite a lot of time target shooting. When I am off walking the world, I miss it immensely. When I am home, there is nothing I would trade it for.