Fishing Too Deep

Today I woke up at the crack of dawn and went fishing with dad. We have a routine of drinking coffee and readying the boat. We drive out to Grand Lake, stopping to buy bait at a tiny gas station. Dad always makes note of how many trailers are parked in the public launch lot. I hop out and stand on the dock while he backs the boat into the water.

Dad knows a couple of the best places to fish in the lake. We mostly pull out sunnies that hide in the shade of cabbage weed. Sometimes we’ll get perch or small mouth bass. We throw a lot of what we get back to grow to keeper size. The bites were abundant today, but for the first ten minutes, my dad was the only one pulling anything in.

“Let me see your line,” he said, “I think you’re fishing too deep.”

So I reeled in my line, and as soon as I could almost see the pink lure down in the green, it disappeared, my line tightened and I knew I had one.

I’m almost always fishing too deep. I frequently analyze my every move, pick apart situations, play and replay things I’ve said and done in attempts to pinpoint the reasons that things happen or don’t happen. There’s not always going a reasonable, acceptable, or comfortable answer. I don’t always need to know the answers. So here’s to pulling in my line a little. Maybe I’ll catch something I can hold on to.

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