The fishing poles came last Christmas. They were not opened from the packaging until last weekend.
Pitiful, but true.When the holiday wrapping paper was cast off, when the new fishing poles gleamed with hope and desire of giant sunfish to be caught (and released), we promised the kids 'This summer we'll take you fishing. We promise‘. There’s little to say about adults breaking promises to kids.
As summer drew to a close and school days hovered over us, the time came to pay out our promise. A debt set aside for numerous errands, vacation days, more errands, and housework.
So, last Sunday, they anxiously bumbled down to the nearby pond with Strawberry Shortcake and Diego fishing poles in hand, with high hopes of catching the big one. Matt and I had high hopes that poles and lines would not tangle into an unmanageable mess. That rescue swimmers would not be necessary to insure we returned home with 4 children. That the kids would still want to go fishing when all was said and done.
Henry David Thoreau said
"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after."
Emory must be in good company then, because all he knew was this is not what he was fishing for...
The charm of fishing certainly lies in the desire for a tug on the other end of the line.
An elusive hopefulness for what could happen.
At least we've graduated from casting class in the back yard. We're not fishing in puddles anymore. At least their hopes of catching something with gills remain high. And more importantly, a promise wasn't broken.