"Three feathers, two teens, and one fish."
It’s barely one week into summer and already the living is easy. Last night as I was leaving the Shop Rite supermarket in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Hillsdale, NJ, the carefree tug of a June evening caused me to succumb to my inner child that is never far away. Besides, what was my rush? To get home, go inside, and spend the rest of the evening missing the possibility of who knows what? So, I made a right at the corner and headed for the local walking path at Wooddale Park.
Adding to the tug was the warm wind and an evening sky of dark hued clouds that gave way to hints of the occasional clearing followed by more mystery with slate grey creations swirling from east to west. But, it was the soft whispers of the wind that I found inspiring. With each drift blowing through my hair and kicking up my skirt, it seemed to be whispering “good-by” to any dark clouds that may have taken up residence in my head that day. The gentle drifts seemed to push out worry and fretting while letting in peace and serenity.
After pulling into the parking lot I hoped out of my Jeep to join the steady progression of walkers. There were couples arm in arm with some carrying a cane for steadiness, young lovers, kids on bikes whizzing past, the token male jogger, and mothers pushing buggies with babies, all circling past me. Rounding the first bend, I noticed two teens fishing and found myself wandering down the small slope to the waters edge.
“What are you catching”, I called, intrigued, by the young lads who were fishing with such earnest.
“Sunnies,” came the reply from the taller of the two.
“Want to try?” he quickly added.
“Ohhhh,” I said, intrigued and somewhat surprised as I didn’t expect the offer. I hadn’t inquired about the sport of fishing, or acted like I knew a thing about catching a fish, yet right in front of me on this balmy, summer evening, was an opportunity not to be missed.
“Sure,” I exclaimed enthusiastically. I’d love to cast a line and see what happens.
After laying my cell phone and keys off to the side, Brian, 13, whose name I later learned, promptly placed his fishing pole in my hand. His fishing buddy, Justin, helped place some bread bait on the hook
“Just lower it,” Brian said confidently wit a nod of his head. “Don’t cast or anything and you’ll get a bite.”
“Hum.” These two are experienced fishermen.
Carefully, I slowly dropped the pole with the bread bait into the murky waters upon which swarms of sunnies appeared. In less than a minute, the bait was gone!
“Do you want to do it again?” Brian offered. You bet I did! Didn’t take me long to catch the fishing fun, bug.
After a few more tries, I did catch a sunnie and whooped with glee before the slim fish flopped off and back into the lake.
“Beginners luck,” Justin grinned.
Whoa, been down that path, while grinning back, but I wasn’t about to bore these boys with stories.
While saying my good-byes to my new fishing friends, I discovered that the two teens lived on the same street and had been fishing pals for several years.
Continuing my walk, my inner child was still at work when I came across a small, soft grey feather. In less than twenty steps, another was at my feet. As I reached my Jeep to head home, a third perfectly positioned lay in my path. Once inside my apartment, I headed straight for a suitable container for displaying my quills as a reminder that at 61, we can still enjoy the whimsical wonders along the byways of life.
I’ll never know what prompted the two young teenage fishermen to extend a fishing invitation. But, I do know it was an experience that filled my spirit and still puts a smile on my face.
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