Walking on Water, Fly Rod in Hand

image

Photo credit: Ted Strutz

Walking on Water, Fly Rod in Hand
by T. Delaplain

“It’s all in the wrist, Trace.” My Dad’s line whipped behind him, slowly returned and walked across the calm water in a lazy “S”. I swore as my tangled fly drove its hook into my thumb.

“Try again, it’ll come.” He handed me his tattered creel. This relic of his youth held all his truths. They had shared the silent hours of meditation, the lonely farewells to his fishing buddies and the rapture of just being.

The fly rod, his staff.
The river, his bible.
The mountain, his chapel.

I recast with perfect pitch and rhythm.

Today’s sermon,”patience”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some stories write themselves. A voice takes you along for the ride and you write. My Dad was a grand story teller and his advice was always given by example. This is his story. He had no use for churches but had an incredible reverence for our natural world and wild spaces. There was never a problem that couldn’t be solved with a fishing rod in hand. He believed that the best stories are about the one that got away, that the water always flows under the bridge so there’s no time for regrets and there’s always another opportunity around the bend. He believed in feeding any neighbor in need and often fished with that in mind. He had endless patience when teaching me how to fish or do long division. I still look to him for answers and sometimes those answers come in strange 100 word packages.

Take a seat in the chair and write a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.

41 thoughts on “Walking on Water, Fly Rod in Hand

Add yours

  1. Wow, Doc! You captured essence brilliantly. I think this is one of your best. I fished every so often as a kid and that first paragraph really brought it all back. That poetic summation at the end, too. Marvelous!

    Five out of five “lousy days of fishing are better than a great day at work.” 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  2. What a beautiful tribute to your Dad, Tracey. My father was a fisherman too and I still look to him for answers. Rarely a day goes by that I don’t quote him. If you want to get close to God, there’s no place like the river. It wasn’t by chance that Jesus chose fishermen for his first disciples.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. If only all fathers took up fishing and then taught their children I think the world would be so much better, this was an inspirational story. Well done.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: