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sh!thawks...on parade: dont let her lick the bowl!

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im sitting on a couch in the living room listening to the old railway clock in the corner go tick tick tick. the light next to me is turned on low so it has that high pitched white noise feel to it.
everyone else is either alseep or on their way.
so im just sitting on the couch listening to the clock.

every time i come home everything is the same but at the same time everything is different. it might be a new plant, or new stepping stones in the backyard, but it adds up.

so i have to sit here for a while, quietly, and think about how much more might have changed since the last time i was here.

there's a line in garden state that goes "You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone."

this line goes through my head all the time when im here, and i try to decide if it's more true than not. i havent ever been able to come to a decision on it. sometimes i think it's true and sometimes not so much. it's a toss up. you move out, you spend a lot of time away from home, and when you come back, youre still family, but you sit down and look at everyone else and wonder what their own family minus you is like.

that being said, there are times when i feel like i just stepped right back into everything here. i go out hunting with my dad and it's just the two of us, shooting the shit, planning out shots and field sneaks, and it's some of the best times i ever get to have.

i ran a lot today.

i ran alot hauling decoys, shells, geese and trying not to trip over fallen logs, harrow marks, or plant stalks in a way that they jam up inside my jeans and stab me in the leg. had that happen before, not fuking cool.

i think that people wil go home this weekend and they'll have a good time. they'll relax. they'll eat. but they won't have as much fun as i will.

i am beyond a reasonable doubt, beat to shit today from running, creeping, carrying shit, and putting round after round of magnum shells through my gun. i can hardly move my shoulder after two days of it, and my head feels like i got hit with a sledgehammer. and i wouldnt trade it for the world.

ok, i lied, im sitting on the couch because i get the best wireless signal here.

dont let her lick the bowl!


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