Our Saturday morning fishing trip was somewhat impromptu.
Yes, it was planned.
And, no, it wasn’t…really.
The Saturday before, Hubby and some guys from church had baptized crickets and worms as they dedicated themselves to the casting role of catching dinner. (They ended up grilling hotdogs instead of fish, but that’s okay – part of the fun is in fishing.)
Hubby mentioned, somewhat offhandedly that it might be fun if the two of us headed out to the lake to relax and dunk some crickets and see what luck we might have at the same hole they had plumbed the depths of.
I wasn’t sold on the idea and said so. Not quite so blunt as that, but yeah…I didn’t offer much hope or help to the idea.
Nothing else was said about fishing, but I thought a lot of it in the days that followed. And, Friday afternoon I asked Hubby if we were still going fishing Saturday morning.
I wish you could have seen that man’s face light up.
“If you want to,” he said.
If I want to – now there was a loaded statement.
“Fishing” wasn’t something I really wanted to do. The idea of hooking crickets and unhooking slimy fish wasn’t exactly my idea of Saturday morning fun. Combine that with the remembrance of the little tick that I pulled from Hubby’s leg after his last foray into the wilderness….
Now, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy fishing as much as anyone else and I enjoy catching them, too. I can be downright competitive when it comes to fishing. And, I’m not shy about baiting my hook, or taking the fish off. And, I’ll scale, gut and clean them, too (as long as they’re dead).
Fishing just wasn’t on my “fun” radar.
“Would you like to get up EARLY and go fishing in the morning instead of sleeping in?” I asked Hubby instead of answering him.
“Sure…I just want to do something…together,” was Hubby’s reply.
So, as yesterday’s post shared, and the next few posts will elaborate on, we went fishing last Saturday morning.
After a morning spent together, in the fresh air, at the lake, away from just about everything and everyone, Hubby and I packed our fishing gear into the car and headed toward home.
As we crossed the bridge and exited Long Hunter State Park, Hubby turned to me and asked, “So, what was the best part of the day?”
My mind quickly slipped back over all we had seen and done.
My mouth opened and out came:
“The best part of the day was being away, out – with you.”
And, it was.