The Five Phases of Firearm Safety

Up on a cliff, I stare past my feet to the rolling, angry sea below. Far below. The frothy white caps churning against the rocks barely make a sound, and sea birds appear as small black dots, the sea is so far away. I shudder, step back—one, two, three—and turn toward the east. The sun warms my shoulders as I consider the shadow stretching before me. My shadow. I feel that familiar spider lurking beneath my ribs. Even then, it weaves frantically encasing all that I hold central to my life in despair.

I am not a traumatized person. I’m fairly stable. I’m pretty happy.

I have a problem, though. Yes, that is true.

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