I don’t know that I got what I needed out in the desert, but I may have done. I am all trained up on my off-hand side now and can shoot near as good with it as I can with my strong side.
If I get shot in my good hand I can yet slay thee.
I can now reliably draw from concealment and put a head shot in a three by five inch box at seven yards in just under a second and a half. With my off hand.
You never know when that might come in handy.
What that desert time does also is gives me all the macho bullshit male bonding I can stand. I am a sucker for it, like I am for most things. A bunch of men with hard hearts and cold eyes who eat up life with both hands. Men who work hard and play hard. Men who have taken up the tools of killing to defend the weak and bring bad men to justice.
Men who know what it takes to get the job done in a hard world. Who saddle up and take on all comers.
Who will take your measure and push in all their chips to call.
It is too simple a thing to call them good.
Being home is a sweet balm to my knottedup soul. My reward on this earth is the good woman who opens the door and welcomes me inside with a kiss and an embrace. For which I would give my all.
She knows enough to let me go play guns, go fight and scrap. She lets me brood and pace. I know she loves the strength in me and the weakness as well. She knows I am her man.
Despite my many faults, she loves me without reservation.
I wish I knew how to proceed with my kid. I guess all the important mistakes have already been made, but it’s hard to grasp that it isn’t anything left I can do for her.
She’s on her own path. Like she always has been, I suppose.
Fly off or smash on the rocks below, one.
I have got a hard knot of grief and damnation trapped in my chest. I cleaned the house from stem to stern, which soothes me, and I got a pork loin brining in garlic and apricot nectar which I aim to cook up for dinner, which will both soothe and feed me, and impress the wife as well.
The rewards of which are worth seeking.
This life will break us all.