My Momma's .38 :D

the girl picks the gun up.  small and fairly light.  she knows its old and wonders about its history.  was it used to kill, had it threatened lives...  how many people had fired it.  she felt its strength, the deadly power it posessed.  knowing what the little gun was capable of, she handles it with great care and respect..  just like her daddy taught her.  its a colt .thirty eight, six shot revolver with a three inch barrel.  a perfect womans gun.  and thats exactly what it who it had been purchased for.  a young man had bought it for his young wife.  she was a small woman albeit capable, but he knew he wouldnt always be around to protect her.  he prayed that would be a day that never came.

the girl who holds it now is not that woman, but her daughter.  who has moved into a home of her own with no protection other than the .thirty eight and her little heeler dog.  the weight feels comfortable in her hand.  she looks it over, the irons cold to the touch.  she flips the cylinder open, six empty chambers .  theres a box on the stump.  she pulls a bullet out, loading the gun.  she does this five more times.  she stands up, standing with her left foot just slightly behind the other.  she cocks the hammer back, the cylinder rotates and clicks.  the firing pin now resting over the bullet.  she takes a breath and as she exhales she squeezes the trigger.  the little gun bucks in her hand, but she doesnt drop it.  she hit what she aimed at, of course it wasnt very far away.  the short barrel makes it difficult to hit anything with any accuracy at any distance.  the smell of burnt gunpowder stings the senses...  a feeling of accomplishment and assuredness comes over the girl.  she knows how to use the little colt and knows she can use it right.  her daddy always reffered to it as a belly gun, and thats all it could be...

when she gets home that night, she confidently places it under her pillow.  it may seem odd or even silly to some.  but she knows its there and sleeps peacefully each night knowing she has it if she needs it.  and the second ammendment ensures that right.

well that girl was yours truly.  and the .thirty eight under my pillow belonged to mamma.... and dont you know that little pistola is always under my pillow.