Water Memory

I am the oldest and therefore was special to this man. Grampa. He spoiled me rotten! One sunny, July day, I asked, no begged him, to take me fishing and to my surprise said, “Yes!. Let’s go.” So off we went in his black Chevy heading towards Portland. We stopped at water, I now know as Stroudwater Village, near the waterfall that is still there today. Grampa brought out his tackle box and spread lures and worms out across the grass. He showed be how to attach a worm to the sharp hook and all the other little nuiances to the game of fishing. It was a fun afternoon, and we even sat back and enjoyed a picnic lunch packed by Nana. As the afternoon waned, I finally got my ‘bite’. As aI reeled my catch in, I was some excited. However, disappointment soon ruled as the my ‘fish’ broke the surface and was unbelievably just a an old, black buckled boot, filled with disgusting slimy yellow mud. Yuk! It was a day! Etched in my memory forever. Whenever I drive by these falls, the image of this man always echoes back to me. True love.