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Memories

By , Clarkston, MI
I look at the man towering over me. The scruff on his chin looks like dark tarantula hairs. His glasses shine in the sun with a bright silver sheen. His mammoth hands hold a contraption which baffles me. It's long and thin, and tells tales of water beasts and untold strength. His concentration is a laser, cutting through everything in the way of the target. I'm holding one, also, although it's a source of annoyance. I look at this giant, this Goliath of a man, and finally manage to say "Hey, Dad?"
His face softens into a smile as he looks down at me. Even his voice is big as he replies "Yeah, buddy?"
I get nervous, feeling a bit stupid as i wonder aloud "When do I get a fish?"
His laugh rains down on me as I frown at him and continue with "I mean it! This is hard!"
He laughs more, saying "You've got to be patient, K-bob"
He delivers this line with a smile that gives me the will to continue. I sigh as only a six year-old can, giving a small "ok."
I wait quietly until, like a frog from a lily pad, my bobber dives into the dark pond. With an excited "Dad! Look!" I begin my struggle. My father lends me his strength, and we haul in the bluegill together. His pride in me provides more happiness and warmth than a thousand sunny days.
I add my fish to his.
I am my father's son.





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