I bought my fishing license yesterday. The big family fishing trip to Fish Lake is in two months. The weather has turned nicer and with Michaela getting out of school in another week, I am itchin’ to get out of the house and partake of some of the local waterways. I am NOT a great fisherwoman. In fact, I don’t even know any of the tricks of the trade. I can’t tell you the difference from one lure to the next. I really have no idea what I am doing. But what I do know is that I love to cast. I love to reel it in. And I love to feel the bite on the hook – even if each time I am just lucky a fish is even tempted by my lure and not because I am using great bait or some mysterious technique. There is something relaxing about casting the line out in the water and reeling it back in… over and over and over. I can just sit there and think. And if I don’t feel like thinkin’, then I can just sit there and curse the fish that I’m not reeling in and dare them to bite. Last fall, we took a quick trip up to Jackson Hole, WY for a weekend. I have very fond memories of fishing up there long ago with my Dad. I got some pretty cutthroat up there and I had hoped to have the same luck again. We stopped at some streams where I had some previous luck with but nothing was biting. The time was growing short. The day was ending and I just was not getting anything. We drove around some more and found another spot along the stream to give it one last go. My family waited patiently as I cast my line over and over. I admit that I was getting frustrated because nothing was happening. On a side note, that very same day was my wedding anniversary – my first since Mike died. So I know that the family was giving me time for myself at that moment and I appreciated that. I was not sure what to feel that day. I was sad, of course, but we were in beautiful country and I was with people that loved me. It made the day easier. But I admit that I just wanted to catch a fish. I just really wanted it. So I continued to cast out the line. I saw some fishermen who had been giving it a try a lot longer than me and they hadn’t caught anything either. They wished me luck. It wasn’t long til I found myself talking to Mike. The family was back in the car and they weren’t with in sight of me so I felt free enough to talk to myself – or Mike as it were. Anyway, I said to Mike, “Mike… it’s our first anniversary apart. If you can do one thing for me, help me catch a fish.” It was an odd request but darn it, I was trying not to let the day upset me. And just then, there was a strike on my line and that ol’ familiar tug of a fish trying to get away. Before I knew it I was laughing out loud, astonished at the immediate response that I was given. I spied the silvery sparkle of the trout’s belly as it rolled and fought with me. It was with in inches of the shore when with one last roll, it freed itself from the hook and swam away. Losing that fish when it was so close to being mine was ironic. And for a moment it felt as if Mike may have been on the banks of that river with me having a good laugh. I was exhilerated and for the first time since his passing, I felt like things would be ok. I hope Mike can be there for our family trip this year. I wouldn’t mind another crack at catching the one that got away.
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