Now, I am not what you would call an avid fisherman. In fact I'm not even a man. I don't know the difference between a jig and a jitterbug. I have no idea why someone would spray their bait or lure with something that smells like a skunk. In fact, if you were to ask me what kind of rod and reel I use, the only thing I would be able to tell you is that it's green. Yet I spend at least 30 hours a week listening to the men in my life talk about fishing.
Fishing is like a drug for some people. The man I gave my heart to gave me the best compliment the other day. He was showing me his new rod and reel he spent a small fortune on saying that it was his sweetheart - next to me of course. Now coming from any other man I would have been slightly insulted. For my 22nd birthday he cleaned up my dad's old closed reel fishing pole, bought me a fishing license, and took me fishing.
I was never a girly girl with the pink sneakers and bows in my hair. The last time I wore a dress was three years ago. Yet I wasn't a full-fledged tomboy either. So traipsing around in a black mud marsh and balancing on broken railroad ties to get across a flooded ditch while carrying a bucket of minnows and a cooler of worms and leeches wasn't quite my idea of a perfect birthday. That was until we reached the river where the ground was dry and the river was peaceful and beautiful.
We set up on the river in the early afternoon. I sat with my camera and snapped a few pictures while he set up the fishing poles. The sun was high and a warm breeze whispered through the leaves. The carp were jumping making the water ripple against the current. At that instant I realized that all the mud caked on my shoes and up my jeans was worth it to be sitting in the grass with him and the sun looking down on me.
The last two years I was forced to buy a license and go fishing with my ex just so he could catch my limit too. So I really had no idea what I was doing but I cast out my worm and bobber and sat and waited. He lost his first couple minnows to some very elusive bullheads but still had a smile on his face saying, "A bad day fishing is still better than a good day at work." I can still see his face as he pulled the hook out of the bullhead I caught that was no bigger than the hook it was on. He swore, "That's the smallest bullhead I've ever seen caught on a hook!" I was going to throw it back out as bait but he wouldn't let me. After reeling in 4 more, still no bigger than 3 inches in length, he finally caught a fish while reeling in his jitterbug. He was so excited and happy until he saw it was another bullhead and swore for a few minutes while he pulled the hook out and threw it back into the water. I couldn't help but laugh at him.
You can't change a person. I wouldn't want to change him even if I could. He abandons me constantly to go fishing but I deal with it or go with him. He needs to fish and hunt and trap just like a junky needs drugs. He needs the outdoors and the sun on his face. He needs the sound of the water and the birds in his ears. He needs the wind through his hair and the ground beneath his feet. Why would I take the little things in life that mean so much to him away when I can enjoy them with him? The little things in life that we all take for granted are the things that make life worthwhile and for him, it's being on the water or in the woods. So I might not be an avid fisherman but I can still enjoy being outside with him and watching him spend an hour cleaning my shoes is worth every minute. For me, those are the little things I wish I could make time lay down and be still for.
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