Spillway
For her family, the allure of the open space of water had been the chance to catch sunfish; a pretty fish with a yellow spot near it's tail that made for excellent fish fry. They'd pile into the station wagon, and follow the neighbors to the spit of land that extended into the expanse of run-off from the lake, an area that allowed the fish to settle and grow large. It was there she learned to bait, cast so it dropped without a splash, and give a quick jerk to set the hook before she reeled in her fish. In spite of her present aversion to the Great Outdoors, the memory of these trips held laughter, picnics, and both parents in a genial mood. The heat of the Southern sun, the cool breeze from the lake and the excitement when you caught a large perch stayed vivid in her mind, allowing the dark stretches of her family's usual existence to fade, reminding her hope is always there.
8 comments:
I likes it, since some of my fondest memories are fishing.
This was absolutely lovely...you brought back the memories I have of fishing in Canada with my family when I as a kid. Beautiful read.
Succinct yet so much detail Really liked it
There's so much in this, and anyone who has ever been fishing will warm to it.
Nicely done.
Phew, you'd struggle getting all that on a postcard - but nicely written, it makes me want go fishing.
Ah, the good and the bad of memories. I enjoyed reading this!
I loved that hope line.
And I could hear the laughter and splash.
I really liked that one; I hope it was real. ('Cause you know I haven't always believed your stories...)
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