This child was needy, moody and all kinds of off-the-wall. The teachers at school had her tested for Autism multiple times, but came to the simple conclusion that she's "just her own person". This child was so emotional, though. Ever since she could speak, she aspired to have children and love everyone. She gives so much of her heart to everyone she meets. So trusting, so unlike her parents.
Not Sam, though. Sam was a mysterious entity ever since her arrival in the world. When you thought you had her figured out, she showed you just how wrong you were. This may just be the product of the fact that she was our first born and we had no idea how to raise a child; but the cryptic nature followed this child as she grew. You couldn't make her cry-you could damn near slap her across the face and all you would be met with were two questioning eyes looking up in curiosity at you. She took to me from a very young age, wanting to do anything under the sun with me. Four-year-old Sam went rock hunting with me and enjoyed every moment. And when we accidentally smashed her tiny little fingers in the car door, she was easily comforted with a big bag of candy. She's a strong-willed little girl. .
I pulled my camo sweatshirt over my head and took in the doe bleat stench it reeked of. My heart pulsed. Sam is about to enter the dark abyss, the dark side of the moon: teen hood. She's about to target her parents as the enemy, and I don't know how I'll handle that. She's my baby, and we learned to love unconditionally together. She does get her lack of emotion from her dad, but I'm trying. I'm trying so hard not to lose her. That's why today was so important. We're sharing my favorite pastime together-and she's listening! .
"Five minutes, Dad. I gotta put my boots on and I'll be ready. When are we able to eat?" Sam softly spoke, and caused me to come out of my nostalgic daze. .
I gathered all our supplies: two swivel chairs, my 270 shotgun rifle, and Sam's 410 little rifle.