WORMS
and a WOMAN
Tina Tesh
It's all
about the worm, you know. It doesn't matter what bait you prefer, or what
techniques are more favorable for a specific species of fish, it's about the
worm. And today, a worm is what it's about, especially since the woman is
tagging along." Take me fishing, take me fishing, OH PLEASE honey, take me
fishing, won't you? “The desperate shrill in her voice told me that there was
no way out of it this time. I knew I was had the second Joe called and canceled
for our morning trip, his wife was sick. Wish mine was. So here we go, my only
day to enjoy the freedoms of our family's cottage without being told when to
come home for lunch, or being asked to plea
se weedwhack the yard before I go back to the docks, was going to be just that,
except today she'll be at the docks with me. But at least I'm going fishing,
maybe I can tune her out, or perhaps explain to her that fish get offended at
cutesie wootsie mushy stuff. No, she'll never buy it.
The morning alarm sounded. I reached over and to my surprise; the bed lay empty
next to me. I rose out of my bed already fretting about my clothing pick for the
day. She'll complain if I wear stained clothes, or look a mess, yet she'll scold
me when I go to wipe fish guts from my hands on to freshly laundered unstained,
unholy Jeans. Oh dear, this is going to be harder than I thought. Oh well, wear
the good stuff bring the laundered dirty clothes along. Too much baggage for
fishing, but then again....
Ahhh, the smell of fresh coffee, Wow, she seen me coming down the hallway and
has my cup poured. Then I saw the pile by the door, two coolers, a duffle bag,
and her beach umbrella? Oh, no way. Trying to stay calm, I slowly walked to her,
gave her a gentle kiss good morning , grasped my coffee cup in my hand, and took
a sip off the top. I really didn't want to make waves today; we could be staying
home to clean the garage. Quietly I asked her what was in each and every thing
and why she felt we needed it. I wanted to work her up to figure it out for
herself that we really didn't need anything but our fishing gear, and one small
cooler perhaps for something to wet our whistle and a sandwich or two. I also
explained to her that my fishing spot is well shaded, and that we would need
room for all the fish we were going to catch. Thank God, the umbrella and one
cooler is staying. Good enough, Let's Go!!
Is the coffee pot off? Did you lock the door? Do you have the keys; maybe we
should go back and check? She just kept going, my minded drifted far ahead to
the moment my line was in. “honey, are you listening?" Oh yeah I said,
thinking, I can't wait to get there.
And finally, pulling in to the cottage drive I could see the creek, and my feet
couldn't keep up with the pace my heart wanted to get me to that water's edge.
We walked along the stony road, each with gear in hand.
Worms
, we need worms. Flipping over a few rocks along the way would certainly bring
us enough worms to fish for a couple of hours, besides the fewer worms we have
perhaps she'll lose interest and want to return to the cottage ALONE. We came to
the point of the docking canal and the main creek. Our sinkers and hooks, I had
prepared the night before. I insisted on putting the worms on. If I had let her,
we would have been spending the afternoon in the not so comfort of the local
emergency room. I explained to her how to bait the hook just so. Slide the worm
over the hook, with just enough hanging off to be able to tease the fish and get
their attention. What a thought I had as I glanced up at her bosom, and gave her
a compliment on the shirt she was wearing. That made her smile. We cast our
lines, and sat. She kept peering at the end of my pole. When a fish hits, you'll
know it, I told her. Well, at least 30 minutes went by and golly gee this was
actually relaxing. I glanced over at her and thought how strange that this is
the second time she is reeling in her line. She looked over at me and explained
that she just didn't like the placement of her line. Rolling my eyes under my
hat so she couldn't see them, I chuckled to myself and thought of how she would
not be able to even get a nibble if she didn't leave her line in the same place
long enough, did she think she was fly fishing? Oh well, let her go.
Another 30 minutes ticked by and I
was actually in the utmost relaxed mode when I saw her shadow out of the corner
of my eye getting closer, oh, no I'm not done yet. She wants to go back to the
cottage ALONE. Yes, this is my lucky day, Oh No... She is going back to make
lunch, I don't want to go, I want to stay here. After a brief pause in our
conversation, she once again peered at the tip of my pole. "I think you
just got some bites honey." Knowing my foot brushed the handle of my pole,
I didn't get so excited. And of course, the movement stopped. She announced her
departure and said "better pull your line up to make sure the fish didn't
steal your worm." She's telling me
HOW to fish??? Blowing off her statement I sat in tranquility as she walked up
the road away from my sacred spot to leave for lunch? No way. A few moments went
by as I sucked in all the quietness had to offer. I looked around and decided
that I would move a few feet up the shoreline to see if there was any better
action closer to the mouth of the docking canal. I wound my reel chuckling at
the thought of that woman. Reeling in I studied the line as it came up out of
the water. A new spot, yep that's what I needed. Then I can get back to the
relaxing part of it all. As the Line grew shorter, and my sinker was beginning
to surface, my eyes traced the line up to the hook's knot. Something's missing.
My worm had been robbed. I was stunned in amazement and looked up the road to
make sure no one was watching, especially HER. I attached my hook to my rod,
picked up my tackle box and walked up the road. Maybe I was hungry after all. Damn
Woman.
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