The Hunters Son: Disappointment and Failure
I recall fondly those evenings, breath fogging up the living room windows as the crisp fall wind spread leaves across our property like a painting, awaiting the return of my father from the hunt with fevered anticipation. Adrenaline pumping through my tiny frame. Watching his silhouette exit his vehicle and opening the tailgate to retrieve his gear, hoping that momentary pause he took was one of appreciation and fulfillment as he gazed upon his latest harvest. Living vicariously through him in hopes that one day I would be the one pulling into the driveway with a harvest of my own. The vast majority of the time he simply retrieved his bow and came into the house to relay to me stories of the woods and its bounty, stories that went beyond just filling our freezer with meat. I recall the disappointment at first, building an early assumption that a rack would be protruding from the back of his truck on each return trip -- not knowing, at that time, the benefits I would draw from that i