Fishing

I wrote this almost 11 years ago. It’s still one of my favorite memories. 
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I remember fishing as a kid. 
My brother and I would go get our bait - either worms from the garden, minnows from the pond, grasshoppers from the field, or cheese from mom's fridge. We would get our rods and reels ready, make sure our little tackle boxes were ready to go, and then pack a snack and a jar of water.  
We would then walk across the field to the pond behind our house we lived in. I was in second grade and my brother was in first.

The getting ready was only half the fun. 
Laying the line out just perfect in the middle of the pond and hoping that the last storm hadn’t moved the underwater log. 
The leisure of sitting in the shade on the side of a pond just waiting for a fish to take an interest in my hook. 
Watching every bob of the bobber, playing the line ever so carefully to invite nibbles that lead to bites. Patiently waiting for the pull of a "bite" that you could feel with your hand on the line. Jerking back your rod to sink the hook and then the "fight" of pulling in a fish that you knew would be dinner tonight. 
Nodding my head at my brother - the competition now on to see who could bag the most and get the honor of bragging rights for the best catch that day.

Then, after several fish are secure on the stringer, snack time. 
If the wild plums or grapes were ripe  - we would pick some to go with the bologna sandwich in the bag on the walk to the pond.

Some swallows of water and it was back to fishing. 

Need to wash our hands...no worries: the back of our pants was sure to have a clean spot.

I look at my life now and long for the simplicity and innocence of that time. No place to be in a hurry, no prize in sight, patience a virtue, and needs were simple. Fears of germs non-existent, concern about sweat and grime not a problem. 
Competition was honest and for a good cause.

I know the whole story behind that glimpse of the past. 
The fish were a Need - they truly were supper. My brother and I both had fears, they just were not at the pond or in any of the fields we hiked through. 
Home was filled with hurry and heart aches. The shade of the trees were a refuge from more than just the sun. 
We were two little ones who played a part in a much bigger drama that consumed our lives.

I look back now to get a glimpse of life back then. How did I deal with the pressure of that time? How did I have the patience to wait for the next fish? What can I learn now to deal with my hurried world that I live in today.

Maybe, it's time to go fishing again