Calm day underway and suddenly there's a ripple on the water. Not the ripple we've been waiting for, not the straight line of tiny waves indicating a breath of wind. This is a chaotic circle, a blob teaming with life.
We turn towards it and he knows instinctively what to do. The little one is wondering. "What all dat splashing about? Why we turning around?"
But the big one knows instinctively. Without a word he gets ready. Bait, hook, cast. Hoping, always hoping.
He will fish day and night. After brushing teeth when he is supposed to be in bed, we find him with his net and pole at the end of the dock. When he is supposed to be cleaning his room, I find him knee deep in the marshy area, net and bucket brimming with critters. When he's supposed to be clearing the dinner table, I find him in the cockpit with his sister teaching her how to swirl around a bucket of Leidy's Comb jellies to make them flash their brilliant bioluminescence. I love that he has this, that fishing is his companion. I smile knowing he will one day be a grown man, pole in hand, out in nature, finding his happy place. It's his thing, and nobody can take it away from him.
