A feeling of being there

Yet a feeling from the past

Brought forth today by a simple event.

A wonderful feeling of light weight

I am once again young.

A moment’s pause to savor the feeling

Then focusing again on my task

Tiny ball of silver or brass

Hard to pick up in my arthritic hands

Still I manage and drop it into the slot.

Goosebumps rise across my skin

And in my mind light shines

A disco moment for one who never went

Oh...there is no music

Except that in my heart.

A pause for a breath or two

Letting the heart slow down

Push the bolt closed and pump once

The stock is in position

Sighting down toward the target

I hesitate a moment, almost suspended

It has been 50 years or more

My eyes close, remembering

Then I open and have to sight once more

I try to squeeze between heart beats

Thwack, I hear the backstop

And just before, a faint sound of ripping

Looking over, I see a small hole

Not in the center, but on the target

A little high and to the right.

I load again, this time silver

Close the breech and the pump

Aim, breathe slowly trying for calm

But I can’t – it’s too much fun

Just like my days at camp on the BB range

No point in trying to calm

I embrace the exuberance I once had

Over and over I load, close, aim and shoot

With every thwack, my heart soars ever higher

As the new memory mixes with old.