Fate of the Fish
Fate of The Fish
It take me awhile to get there. But you don't know. I drive through the neighborhood. Along the path and up the hill. I park at the gate. Sometimes there are cars parked. I wonder what they will wonder when they see an abandoned wheelchair parked in the dirt...
I only take what I need. Can't be too much. My pole. My brown cloth bag filled with only the necessities. A carton of worms, knife, cell phone, extra hooks, chapstick, wire, ipod, and pop rocks. The last two just incase.
I climb through the gate. Then I start the walk. It's only half a mile or so. It feels like six. Sometimes I have to stop and rest. But not for long or I will be here all night. Sometimes people pass me walking. They look at me and after a second of the look, they smile and I answer hello. They have there thoughts. And I have mine.
I play games with myself. Games I made up when I was a kid but haven't played in years. "I will make it to that tall green weed. Then I will rest. I promise". I lie. "I made it to the tall weed, I can make it to that big rock. Then I will rest. I promise".
Twenty minutes of this and I am to my spot. It was difficult for me to get there. But you don't know. Is it worth all the effort? I'm sorry but it is. I sit in the dirt and try to hold still. Till my heart runs normal. I am ready.
My pole is already threaded. I pull out the worms. I love the black dirt they swim in. The kind you can't get out of your finger prints till you scrub hard with soap. The worm is lazy. Till I push in the hook. I double hook the worm so there can be no tricks. I straighten out my line and make my cast. I'll try a couple times till I am happy with it. Then I wait.
I like the wait. I sit on the bank and watch. I watch the last of the sun as it shines on my arms. There are always dragon flies. Mosquitoes too. But they don't bother me. Sometimes a sand hill crane will pass over and I watch its silhouette. I can't help but think the word Grace. I love the cranes. I look in the water that is like a dirty mirror. Your friends start to jump. Maybe you are not friends. And maybe one is you. I watch the sky. And the light as it plays on the beautiful dirty mirror. The sun finally falls and chances are, it will look amazing.
I think my thoughts and even as I watch everything around me, I keep a sharp eye on the bobber. I think of you. I watch for you. And finally, you come.
I suppose it's a mean trick. You thought it was dinner. You didn't know it was your last dinner and there was death inside. I reel you in and pull you out of your home and lay you down to die. I feel sad as you twitch and struggle. I wrap a bandana around you and try to take care as I remove the hook with pliers. Before I pull I utter out loud my simple apology. "i'm sorry". I'm not sure you can think thoughts but you were living with a spirit. Does that mean you have a soul?
I tie you in a cloth or string you on a wire. I'll take you home. It gets dark and I pack up my things. It's a long walk back and i may have to stop and rest.
Believe me or not. I am grateful. Maybe you didn't mean to, but you have given. You will give me food. But even more. You have given me an experiance to add to my collection called Life. You have given me some comfort. And you have given me adventure. And all of that is a lot. But it goes further. Catching you will become a memory. And I will keep it. Best of all, it will be one worth keeping.
It take me awhile to get there. But you don't know. I drive through the neighborhood. Along the path and up the hill. I park at the gate. Sometimes there are cars parked. I wonder what they will wonder when they see an abandoned wheelchair parked in the dirt...
I only take what I need. Can't be too much. My pole. My brown cloth bag filled with only the necessities. A carton of worms, knife, cell phone, extra hooks, chapstick, wire, ipod, and pop rocks. The last two just incase.
I climb through the gate. Then I start the walk. It's only half a mile or so. It feels like six. Sometimes I have to stop and rest. But not for long or I will be here all night. Sometimes people pass me walking. They look at me and after a second of the look, they smile and I answer hello. They have there thoughts. And I have mine.
I play games with myself. Games I made up when I was a kid but haven't played in years. "I will make it to that tall green weed. Then I will rest. I promise". I lie. "I made it to the tall weed, I can make it to that big rock. Then I will rest. I promise".
Twenty minutes of this and I am to my spot. It was difficult for me to get there. But you don't know. Is it worth all the effort? I'm sorry but it is. I sit in the dirt and try to hold still. Till my heart runs normal. I am ready.
My pole is already threaded. I pull out the worms. I love the black dirt they swim in. The kind you can't get out of your finger prints till you scrub hard with soap. The worm is lazy. Till I push in the hook. I double hook the worm so there can be no tricks. I straighten out my line and make my cast. I'll try a couple times till I am happy with it. Then I wait.
I like the wait. I sit on the bank and watch. I watch the last of the sun as it shines on my arms. There are always dragon flies. Mosquitoes too. But they don't bother me. Sometimes a sand hill crane will pass over and I watch its silhouette. I can't help but think the word Grace. I love the cranes. I look in the water that is like a dirty mirror. Your friends start to jump. Maybe you are not friends. And maybe one is you. I watch the sky. And the light as it plays on the beautiful dirty mirror. The sun finally falls and chances are, it will look amazing.
I think my thoughts and even as I watch everything around me, I keep a sharp eye on the bobber. I think of you. I watch for you. And finally, you come.
I suppose it's a mean trick. You thought it was dinner. You didn't know it was your last dinner and there was death inside. I reel you in and pull you out of your home and lay you down to die. I feel sad as you twitch and struggle. I wrap a bandana around you and try to take care as I remove the hook with pliers. Before I pull I utter out loud my simple apology. "i'm sorry". I'm not sure you can think thoughts but you were living with a spirit. Does that mean you have a soul?
I tie you in a cloth or string you on a wire. I'll take you home. It gets dark and I pack up my things. It's a long walk back and i may have to stop and rest.
Believe me or not. I am grateful. Maybe you didn't mean to, but you have given. You will give me food. But even more. You have given me an experiance to add to my collection called Life. You have given me some comfort. And you have given me adventure. And all of that is a lot. But it goes further. Catching you will become a memory. And I will keep it. Best of all, it will be one worth keeping.