Going fishing

 He got up most mornings, making sure he was awake and wondering if there was anything more important to do than go fishing. He stretched, moved slowly to the kitchen, and brewed a pot of coffee: one cup for now, the rest into his thermos. He got dressed and looked into their bedroom, where his bride of fifty years slept, well, making it look like she was sleeping, but she wasn't. She used to rise with him, offering breakfast, but he said no, so she quit offering so often. But there was always a paper bag with two sandwiches and an apple that he grabbed on his way out, smiling.

The lake was just a few hundred yards from the house, and a shed where he kept both fishing gear and some tools and other assorted things he had accumulated over the years. He grabbed what he needed and made his way to the small boat tied up to the dock. There hadn't been any rain overnight, so the boat only held the normal amount of water, as all wooden boats do. He bailed out the boat, loaded his gear, untied the boat, and headed out to his favorite spot. He didn't have a motor on the boat; he said it just scared the fish away, and besides, rowing was good for his health.

Arriving at his spot, he baited a hook with a night crawler he found last night by wetting the grass, then shone a flashlight on the ground, and the worms would surface, and he'd grab one, adding to the dozen or so others in the tin can. For him, it wasn't just the fishing but everything and nothing surrounding him. The splash of a fish jumping, taunting him to catch it, the lapping of water against the hull, and the feel of the warm air blowing against his face, it just didn't get any better than that.

After a half a day on the lake, he'd sometimes come home with a stringer of fish he'd cleaned at the shed, taking the fillets to the house, where later they'd be grilled outdoors and accompanied with one of his bride's many unforgettable sides. Come sunset, they'd sit on the front porch swing, slowly watching as the ball of fire above sank into the trees as darkness fell on their little piece of heaven. So what are your plans for tomorrow she would ask him. He just smiled, took her hand, and told her that tomorrow was her day to do whatever she wanted. " Let's go fishing she said.

Mike 2026