Memories

This place was most beautiful at sunset, the sun just disappearing beyond the horizon producing a golden hue that reflected off the pure waves like a million diamonds scattered on a marble floor, it seemed to create a magical scene as if in a fairy-tale. Below the crashing waves were the homes of hundreds of colourful fish; angel fish, clown fish and scuttling hermit crabs carrying their life on their backs. When I was younger these crabs fascinated me. I remember my grandfather teaching me how to pick them up without them pinching. He would pick up the larger ones which seemed almost as big as me their pincers like the branches of a cedar tree, he would just hold them in the middle of his great big palm and I would watch with wonder as they pinched him and he didn't even flinch. To me he was my hero. He was bullet proof. He was larger than life.

I remember fishing with him, feeling the gentle rock of the waves and the sound they made as they softly slapped up against the side of the boat. As one fish after another seemed to appear in our boat, the strong alkali smell of the deep green sea and the overpowering smell of fish reached my nose. In my mind I couldn't comprehend how our small motor boat didn't sink under the weight of those few fish, they seemed so large.
My favourite part of fishing was the waiting. Waiting; waiting; waiting. My whole life I seemed to wait; waiting for my birthday, waiting for Christmas; waiting for my dad to come home from work so I could jump in his arms and tell him how I knew my five times tables; waiting for that fish, the one fish swimming around my hook, line and sinker. Leaning over the boat I peered down into the water, and stared at my reflection of shoulder length blond hair. My grandfather’s strong hand on my life jacket restrained me from tumbling over the edge into that now dark, sinister world. I could imagine monsters lurking in the seaweed, just waiting for me to fall in so they could grasp me with their slimy tentacles. Then I remember my grandfather sitting in the boat with me. Turning I looked at him, he smiled a knowing smile as if he knew exactly what thoughts were going through my mind, the imaginative mind of an eight year old. His words still comfort me to this day. “Don’t worry, Danielle, I would never let you fall.”

Now he is older, in pain, even when lying in bed. When I see him now, it’s hard to believe he is that strong man from my memories. His time is soon I’m sure, but when his time comes I won’t cry, I’ll smile on the memories we have had. I will smile knowing he never let me fall; never will let me fall. I will remember his smile and the way his eyes sparkled when surrounded by his grandchildren; I’ll remember making him sit down and putting all my butterfly clips in his hair and him not minding; I will remember his infectious laugh and the way he lit up a room. I will remember him even when the night grows dark and my heart stills. I will remember that strong, young man from my memories.