5. Guns, saddles, and separation...

And so I got on the plane and went home to Oklahoma. He was waiting for me at the airport. It was sort of a whirlwind for the next few months. That night that we decided to be a "couple" was April 21st. The next week, after I was home from NC, he sat down with my father and asked permission to date me. They had a long, serious talk, while my mom and I sat downstairs and wondered what exactly they were talking about. They never told us all of it. At least I don't think they did. But they both came down alive, and that was all that mattered! Oh, that and the fact that my dad gave him his blessing. That's always a good thing to have. I have a feeling that there might've been some small amount of threatening involved during that conversation; I can only imagine that it went something like this... "Now son, I can do things with a scalpel that you don't even want to imagine..." But I can't be certain about that.

 One of the first things that he asked me after we started dating was, of course, if I had ever shot a gun. And to that, I told him that yes, I had shot a gun. When I was seven. It was a shotgun. A big shotgun. It knocked me over and left a huge bruise on my shoulder. (I think that was my dad's master plan, because I never wanted to shoot a gun again.) I did shoot a BB gun once after that, but it was taken away shortly after it was discovered that I was shooting it at the cows... that's a completely different story though. So the transformation began. The first gift he ever bought for me was a .22 caliber rifle. I was terrified to shoot it. My shoulder cringed, recalling the bruise from the first time. He assured me that there was no kick when shooting this small caliber gun. He also explained why, but I won't get into that. He walked me through all the steps, but I still wouldn't shoot it. I wasn't really that scared, I was just really nervous about shooting in front of him! I finally did it, after using the old "I'll hold the gun and you get really close and hold your hand on the gun too and help me" ploy. He did, and he was right. There was no kick. I was in love. (With shooting). From that moment on we were inseparable (me and the gun). And him. 

The next thing he got me was a saddle. I was thrilled with it! None of my past interests had ever gotten me anything so useful as a gun and a saddle, and in the same month, no less!

Also in the first several months, he worked for my dad gutting a house right down the road from my parents' house. Our neighbors were selling the house and moving to town, so dad bought it to make sure we didn't have new neighbors that weren't so agreeable. We tore out floors and walls, marveled at all the things we found that were being used to hold the house together, and ultimately wondered how the heck it was even standing. It was a fun month. Then came June. 

We had a few weeks in June to be together, and then we had to part. I was going on a six week mission trip to Hungary with one of my friends, and he was going off to guide hunts for an outfitter in Colorado. He was going to be gone a little longer though. Like all summer and maybe half the fall. I couldn't say no to it though, because I knew he loved it more than anything. So off we went. 

That was the hardest six weeks of my life. We got to talk on the phone occasionally, but we were in different time zones, and it was just difficult. But we made it, and after six grueling weeks I was headed home to Oklahoma again. This time he wouldn't be there waiting for me, though. 

What made it all better was that it was time for my family's summer vacation. And guess where we were going? Yep, Colorado.