It Came Close

It Came Close

When I step outside I breathe in the musty morning mountain air. It’s clean and fresh. The air is chilly with a hint of moisture. The crunching of the rocks are beneath my feet as I walk across the rocky pathway and kick some out of my sandal. I step down the three wooden steps and onto the little sandy beach to find my uncle preparing to fish.

He says good morning to me and I nod my head. I stand there and cross my arms while I scan the lake. The water is so still it looks like glass that could be walked on. There are dark shadows all around the lake due to the reflection of the green trees on the water. Occasionally, there are little ripples of water scattered about over the lake from the fish popping up for food. Across the lake there is a line of bushy green trees and peeking out among them are a few houses. Most of the houses have docks at the end with empty boats just waiting to be occupied. The sun has not come up quite yet so the sky is still a dull gray with clouds glancing up from over the hills.

I turn around to where the fishing poles are propped up against the grass and take one. It’s red, my favorite color. I open the tackle box and rummage around for bait. I find a bright green worm and slip it on the hook of the pole and carefully place it in the boat. My uncle asks if I’m ready. I answer yes and then step into the boat. When I sit down the metal is ice cold on my bottom so I pull my large sweatshirt down to cover it. As my uncle pushes the boat towards the water it makes a scratching and crunching sound against the wet sand and rocks. Then he steps in, grasps the paddle, and pushes off some more. We were off.

The water isn’t still anymore. There’s the calm and wide ripples from the movement of the boat and paddling. With my hand gripping the soft and squishy handle of the fishing pole, and my Kodak one-time-use camera in my lap, I’m thrilled. This is going to be the day that I’m finally going to catch my fish.

My uncle paddles to the left of the lake and we stop not quite in the middle but it comes close. He takes the heavy anchor and slides it gently into the water with the clunking of the chain against the boat. We both take our fishing poles out and with a toss of my arm, I cast it to the right. It lands with a loud plop into the water as it echoes around the lake. It’s quieter out here than I thought. My uncle casts his in the opposite direction of mine and then comes the long wait for the fish to arrive. I wait about a minute until I slowly reel the line back in, hoping the squiggling movement of the rubber worm will attract some fish. I cast my line out a few more times until it happens.

I feel a small tug on my line and it gets my attention fast. Thinking it’s just a nibble--the fish playing mind games with me--I ignore it. Then, a couple of seconds later, there’s another, harder tug. My hand tightens around the pole and little by little my line starts to reel out on it’s own with a slow clicking sound. A small screech of excitement escapes from my lips, my heart starts to thump, and I’m practically laughing with joy. I’m so overcome with all this glee I almost forget to start reeling the line in. My uncle tells me to reel in slowly but to have a firm grip on the pole so the fish won’t escape. So I start to reel in slowly, my thumb and pointer-finger in between the small handle, and my hand going around and around. The fish gradually emerges, slapping the water back and forth as it tries to break free. My uncle has both hands out, trying to get a grip on it as it slashes right and left while I hold the line. The fish makes a big thud against the side of the boat as we struggle to catch him. For such a little fish, this guy is strong! It wiggles like a little kid does when he’s on the doctor’s table frightened to get a shot. Then, in a matter of seconds, all is lost. The fish breaks free and makes a triumphant splash into the lake.