Rite of Passage

A rite of passage. As a young girl I considered shaving my legs, a first date, a first kiss, going to prom, driving, etc... all rites of passage into young adult hood. They are moments we covet and record and etch into our memories. They are the milestones that say we are growing up, or entering a new phase in life. For boys a rite of passage consists of many of the same things except hopefully they are shaving their face instead of their legs of course, but they also covet that first day that their dad deems them responsible enough to handle their fist loaded weapon.

From the day Dylan was born Brett has looked forward to that day. A time when he and his son could bond over the feel of the cool steel in their grasp and the jolt of the gun as the trigger is squeezed gently between their fingers. A time when he can pass on his love for hunting and the outdoors as his grandfather passed on to him. I, as a woman, cannot grasp the true significance of this

experience, but I know that it is a sacred moment. I swore it would come much later than it has. When Dylan was only a baby we talked about when he would be old enough to handle a gun and my ideal age was always 12, maybe older, but Brett has always known it would come sooner. Last year for Christmas we bought the first BB gun. With it came great responsibility and many gun safety lectures. In November Dylan will turn 8. I will admit that he is a mature and responsible 8, but 8 none the less. For his birthday Brett and my dad took him shopping for his first real gun.

Tonight we drove to the shooting range to give father and son their first weaponry bonding experience. I could see the fear and the pride welling up in Brett as he handed the gun over to Dylan for the first shot. I do not think it is the thought of the first shot, but rather the thought of the bonding that will happen in the many outings they will make together, the moments of pride over a successful hunt, and the lessons waiting to be passed on that actually make this moment so wonderful. But what made it even better... he was a great shot!

So, this weekend as they embark on their first father/son hunting experience during the youth deer hunt you can be sure that toes will be cold,patience will be tested, advice will be given, lessons will be learned and shots will be fired. Hopefully they will have some success. But, even if the trophy buck is left for another day the time they spend together will have been worth every minute. But for me, I'm left feeling somewhat nostalgic about what this really signifies. The first sign of things to come. The sadness of losing my baby and the joy of watching him grow.