as she readies herself for complete submersion again, she timidly puts one toe in the tepid water. cooler than she remembered, but still faintly familiar. finding the courage to go a little deeper she placed one foot flat on the muddy bottom and let it sink a little. the other followed on its own accord. ankle-deep she stood there, feeling the water encompass her toes while the muddy bottom slowly crept up the sides of her feet.
“it’s so calm,” she thought, “and uncertain.”
starting across the lake, waiting to cast her line for the third time in that many seasons, she wondered what was waiting for her out there. nourishment? fulfillment? nothing? did she already let her fish get away? shaking her head, she knew she wouldn’t know unless she tried.
gingerly, she took another step deeper, breathing in the air of possibility and decided to try her luck again. fishing was one of those things. you had to enjoy the process of casting that line in hopes of finding the one or else it all became a waste of time.
would her fishing trip be like the last? all fish too young to enjoy? or like the first full of those past their prime and too tough to enjoy? will she reel in plenty of those already committed to spawn with another? there is no telling what the line might bring in. she sighed. no telling whatsoever.
perhaps that’s the excitement of fishing. casting that line with the hope that a beauty is going to get snagged, excitement that increases as the line is tugged and pulled. reeling in your catch to see if they’re a good feed… tossing them back if they’re not… all part of the process. it only takes one line to catch the right one, but you get so many that aren’t, you gotta enjoy the process of trying or else there’s no point. you might as well just give up.
numbness starts in her toes. she puts the rod aside. walking back to shore she tells herself, “that’s enough for today. one step at a time. i’ll get my catch tomorrow. tonight i’ll eat veg.”