Fish

William and Walker examining and poking a caught fish.

On the last Saturday in January, Tyler took us fishing, us being, myself, William and Will's best friend, Walker. We all got in the car, bought some lunch and went to a river about 1 hour away from Hot Springs. It was beautiful day in the low 70's. The sun glistened upon the water as it gently swayed down the river. The birds were singing sweet melodies of spring. The air was fresh and vibrant, full of budding cheerfulness and the impending growth of winters end.

As the boys fished in the river, loading one miniature marshmallow after another on their hooks trying to entice the trout, I had an epiphany. In this serene setting, as I now became the one hooking the marshmallows and casting the line for the 4 year old boys who wanted to fish, I realized with an absolute clarity, the kind that is so clear it is life altering, that I HATE FISHING!

I dislike everything about it! I dislike the sitting or standing while waiting for a poor little trout to bite, I dislike the casting and tangling of lines with little boys heads and fingers and clothing. I dislike the actual catching of the fish or the disappointment when you don't. I dislike retrieval of the hook from the fishes mouth or worse its stomach. I dislike the smell of the little fish and the way they look at you and squirm in the hands of their captor, pleading to be set free. I dislike the way my sweet little boy smells after fishing. I dislike listening to the other fishermen on the bank speculating about the fishes whereabouts or taste buds. In short I am not a fisher. Fishing is not for me and I am not for fishing.

The boys did catch a trout each, they brought them home in a cooler full of ice in the hopes of eating them. I truly wonder how much Tyler actually likes fishing himself, because upon arrival home, he decided that we should not eat the fish but just throw them away. After all it is Arkansas and fish die here with no explanation; probably nuclear waste poisoning or second hand smoke or something.

I asked Tyler to kindly never invite me fishing again. He quickly accepted the request a little too enthusiastically. I used to frown upon segregating outings, daddy trips and mummy trips. My mind has changed. Fishing will be for the men in my house and that is fine with me as long as they don't dirty my cooler again.