August 30, 2011 in N
We sit silently in the boat, my grandfather and I, rocking gently as waves make their way to shore. The dawn has been and gone, and now the light of day sparkles off the dappled water, occasionally catching me sharply in the eye.
We do not speak. I keep an eye on the edge of my net and he watches his. He is patient and does not seem to tire, while I struggle to keep my eyes open. It is not boredom I feel, but fatigue; I awoke hours earlier to accompany him on this trip. It was important to me. It is. To my mother as well. I must make better use of this time.
I do not remember ever spending as much time with him alone as I am now. Usually when I see him it’s with the whole family; my sisters and I sitting politely while he speaks with my mother and asks my father about business.
More time passes and still we do not speak. The nets remain still. I take a breath, and then break the silence.
‘This is my first time fishing, Grandpa.’
‘I know, kiddo, you girls don’t get to the coast enough,’ he says, eyes still on the net.
‘Did you take Mum fishing when she was my age?’
‘No. Her poppa did.’
He looks up briefly with a smile. There is pride in his eyes, joy in maintaining the tradition. I sit up straighter. I have a lot to take in.
Comments are closed.