My
Story
5
years of age is the right of passage in my family.
From
my great grandfather to my grandfather to my father this is our “ceremony”
At the age of 5 your father’s firearm becomes yours
if you fire your first shot from that one
I will
keep it alive. I
remember my day.
I never thought I could be so
scared.
He told me today
is the day you become a man.
I believed him.
It was midsummer, hotter
than I ever have known it
to be, out in the country of North Carolina
The range
weren’t that far but to me it seemed longer than “the green mile”.
Loaded
and ready by the time I got there he handed me his shotgun
“Whenever you’re ready bud.”
I looked down the smooth black barrel
at that little silver ball at the end.
“Now remember Will that little ball needs to go where you want to hit.”
I
pulled the trigger. BOOM! To a five year old that little gun packed a big punch.
12
years of age me and my mother’s family starts new trade tion for Christmas
Where we do go to my uncles and just shoot.
13 years of age My Father dies. Mom
has new boyfriend.
I and he only really had one thing in common
and that was guns.
14 years of age receive first gun for from mother
semiautomatic 20 gauge.
My
mother’s boyfriend lives with us he
owns guns to.
One thing we have in common.
I
and he have fun not just with guns but messing with each other to and that
would not have
Come
unless we had the common interest which happens to be both our loves for guns.
Most
people believe guns only kill.
Separate
loved ones from each other.
You
never hear about all the families brought together by them.
You
want an example.
Look
to me.
Remember.
Guns
Don’t
Kill
People.
You have some grammatical errors.
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