Earplugs in

and my mouth cracks open

into a wide, unfiltered smile

Dad hands me the giant earmuffs

and I put on my gold-rimmed sunglasses

I want to look good for this

because it isn’t everyday you get to

cross something off your bucket list.

I remember my aunt telling me

how to hold it just right

with my thumbs together

like when you whistle with a blade of grass

the web of your hand beneath the top half

so the slide doesn’t slice your thumb

one arm slightly bent

one foot in front of the other

It’s just an extension of yourself,

a leaf off of your stem,

the bullet is your seedling.

Dad places me ten feet from the target

and I’m not even nervous.

He takes out the clip

and places a golden cylinder into each slot.

And he tells me in his gently and bristly voice,

placing his sandpaper hands on his baby boomer hips,

“Insert the magazine,

safety off,

eyes off the top of the barrell,

and take your time.

It’s live.”

Here we go.

I raise my arms and get my grip

It’s just me and the 380,

An extension of myself

another arm right off of mine.

I can feel the trigger,

see the target,

hear the silence.

Just me,

shaky hands,

the barrell,

and the bullet.

BAM!

It’s so swift I hardly even feel it

no kickback whatsoever

I laugh at myself

and this new thing I’ve done,

turn to my family and shout,

“I did it!”

with all the glee and happiness

of a lucky little girl.

Five more rounds and I reload

getting trigger happy.

I watch Dad with his revolver.

He’s not elegant at home

but he’s a graceful shot

A practiced marksman

and his passion

shines through his deep-set eyes.

It’s time to go again

this time with the revolver

a little more recoil

but I’m hitting

closer

closer

bullseye

and I can’t believe how at home I feel

with this metal horse between my hands

I always thought it looked so violent

but it’s damn beautiful

feeling the power behind each shot.

And it’s more peaceful than I imagined

having a firecracker between my fingers.

I thought I would hate this

but now I don’t understand

how people can use such a beautiful machine

to do such terrible things

but I am the handler

I am the marksman

and I am using this for good

I will not hurt anyone

I will only love my gun

because it is an extension of myself

a metal me, a loaded lover

This is not redneck or badass or violent

this is nothing like I thought

this is me learning how to lose myself

and forget about my tribulations

this is me

living for right now.

I cock the hammer once again

hear the cheers behind me

I’m a good girl at heart

I don’t like risks

but something about

a gun

a board

and a little powder in my face

makes me like a little

bang

bang

bang.