I’m Getting Closer
by Rosemary Eberly
by Rosemary Eberly
Little boy George bent over slowly to pick up another arrow from the ground. He sighed as he straightened up and placed the arrow against his bow for another shot. “Maybe this time,” he thought. “Maybe in some alternate universe, I will get lucky and hit the bulls-eye!”
He took aim again, carefully lining up the shot. He drew back the bow. A little flame of hope stirred within his heart. Maybe this was his lucky shot. Maybe he would get it this time. He held it just a second longer before he released and let the arrow soar through the air, only to see it plummet to the ground a foot in front of the target.
He stood, shoulders stooped, staring at the arrow pointed into the ground, tuft of feathers in the air as if to say, “Ha-ha! You’re so stupid! You thought you could really hit the bulls-eye? You can’t even hit the target!”
Frustrated to the very bottom of his toes, he dropped the bow and gave it a kick. “You stupid thing!” He yelled. “You are no good. I am done with this. I can’t be an archery hunter—It’s just too hard!”
Just then big man Jake stepped forward from where he had been watching the incident unfold. As little George looked up, his face turned a little red and his eyes squinted and his nose scrunched up. “I’m not going to cry,” he thought. “Crying is for babies!” But when big man Jake came up, squatted down in front of him, and wrapped him in a hug…he just couldn’t stop them anymore.
“I’m trying and trying,” he sobbed. “I shot at this target all day now, and not even one arrow hit it! It’s a stupid bow, and a stupid target, and I don’t want to shoot anymore!”
Big man Jake patted him gently on the back as the sobs turned to hiccups, the hiccups turned to sniffles, and then the sniffles slowly faded away. He held little George at arm’s length. “I want to show you something,” he said. He walked over and picked up an arrow stuck in the ground. “This is the arrow you shot first,” he said. “See how far it is from the target? Then there is this arrow.” He picked up another arrow a little closer to the target. “And this one, and this one, and this one.” He walked closer and closer to the target as he picked up the arrows that had landed in the ground. “With every shot you came closer to the target—and closer to the bulls-eye. Do you really want to give up now, when you are really starting to get better?”
Little boy George shook his head uncertainly. “But it is taking so long,” he said. “What if I am never able to hit the bulls-eye? I want to hit it now! I want to be a good shot!”
“Ah…” said big man Jake. “But this takes time. Every time, you are getting closer to the bulls-eye. The times you miss are just as important as the times you hit because they show how much better you are becoming. It might take ten more tries, or it might take a hundred more tries; but each time you take another shot, you are one shot closer to hitting the bulls-eye.” He picked up the bow and handed it to little boy George.
Little boy George studied the bow for a little. Then he reached out, took an arrow from big man Jake, and placed it against the string. He stood tall as he carefully drew back the string. He took a deep breath, and let it release. The arrow soared through the air and landed a little closer to the target. “Look,” he shouted, as he ran to the arrow. “I’m getting closer!”
Big man Jake smiled and leaned against the tree.
