“we’ve been here nine months,” she said, “ and we haven’t caught anything!”
On Judah’s first cast, he had a small mouth bass. We caught ten more throughout the relaxed evening, and all I could think about was Dad. How he taught me to fish, to understand fish and lakes, and how to read water. We didn’t do anything special, I just had years and years of fishing experiences, shared mostly with my dad, and I couldn’t help but think, “I need to take me boy fishing.”
We swam a lot today, as the temperatures dropped a few degrees, then set off some simple fireworks around the campfire. Cousins played and the summer day was filled easily and quickly. The kind of day that carries little significance now but after years and years of coming together and finding routines and discovering new freedoms, strong memories of simple and grand moments begin to form, the kind that stay with you long after parents and grandparents are gone, after families fall apart and siblings no longer laugh or talk together. It was the kind of day that builds the kind of memories for when, many years from now, life seems to be one giant disappointment because very few things turned out the way you’d planned, But then, you remember those summer days and a sort of hope begins to stir. Hope in family, in relationships, and the small moments of summers spent with cousins (or Dad) when everything just seemed to work out fine. Because they did. So we believe that they will once again.
I love those kind of days.
The day ended with me losing a bet to Selah... she caught the biggest (because it was the only) after dark fish which means I have to go tubing in s bikini. Awesome.
