Just Fishing

You know those perfect mornings? This is one of them - crisp and cool, but not the kind of cold that makes you want to crawl back under the covers. John's having one of those fishing sessions where everything just clicks. By the time the sun's barely begun to take the edge off the morning chill, he's already got a decent catch lined up. Time to get cooking, he thinks to himself. Now, most folks might turn their nose up at fish for breakfast - it's not exactly bacon and eggs, after all - but for John? Fish is pretty much the perfect meal any time of day. He could honestly eat it three, four, maybe even five times a day and never get tired of it. That's just how he is.

Sally should be coming by any minute now, so John wants to get everything ready. He's hoping she'll stick around for a bit - share some breakfast, maybe swap a story or two. The funny thing is, John can't really explain how he knows Sally's on her way. He just... does. It's like that with everything in John's world, really. Things have a way of working out exactly how he figures they should. Call it intuition, call it wishful thinking - whatever it is, it works for him.

"Hey John," Sally calls out as she steps onto the porch, and sure enough, the smell of sizzling fish is already drifting through the air. "Hey Sally," John calls back, looking up from his pan. "What brings you around these parts? You hungry for some fish?" Sally just shakes her head with that knowing smile of hers. "John, I've been showing up here every single morning for what feels like a thousand years. You know exactly what brings me here - you do, you silly old man." John chuckles, concentrating on getting the fish plated up just right, making it as presentable as he can manage. "Oh yeah, I guess you're right about that." This little morning dance of theirs has become second nature - they've been doing it for longer than either of them probably remembers. They'll sit together, share breakfast, talk about this and that, and then Sally will head on down the road. Not long after, another one of John's friends will wander by, and they'll sit and chat, maybe do some fishing, work on the boat, or just soak up the sunshine and enjoy the peaceful countryside.

John's been retired for ages now - honestly, so long that he's lost track. His days don't vary much, but that suits him just fine. John's never been one for change, never saw much point in it. He's perfectly content living the same day over and over again - why mess with a good thing? Sally's quite a bit younger - John first met her when she was just fifteen, and somehow she just sort of adopted him as a father figure. She's sharp as a tack, too. There isn't much Sally hasn't studied or at least knows something about. And she's beautiful in that natural, understated way - pretty without being flashy or trying too hard. Everything about her seems to be exactly as it should be - sweet, genuine, just the perfect daughter for an old guy like John. They can talk for hours, with John doing most of the storytelling. He's got thousands of tales stored up, and Sally absorbs every word like she's been waiting her whole life to hear them. It's probably about as perfect a relationship as an old man and a young woman can have.

"John, tell me more about that story - the one where you were working as a fireman and found those puppies." "Oh, didn't I finish that one?" John asks, genuinely surprised. "Nope, you got about halfway through and then Ben showed up, and you completely forgot about me," Sally says with mock indignation. "Sorry about that," John says, settling back into his storytelling voice.

"Well, that sawmill was going up like you wouldn't believe. When you've got that much wood burning all at once, the fire gets so incredibly hot that honestly, the best thing you can do is just stand back and watch it burn itself out. There's no point in getting your equipment right in the thick of it and losing everything when the heat becomes too much to handle. So there I was, standing there watching this inferno, looking for any kind of break where we might be able to get a wagon in there and create some kind of firebreak before the whole forest went up in flames. That's when I heard it - this faint crying sound. At first, I couldn't figure out where it was coming from, but then I spotted this little tool shed right at the edge of the main building.

I had a hunch that's where the sound was coming from - the fire hadn't reached that part yet, so it made sense. Me and a couple of my guys made a run for it, holding our hands up to shield our faces from the intense heat radiating off that blaze. I'm telling you, it was like running straight into a blast furnace. But we managed to get to that shed, and sure enough, there were these two little puppies. I grabbed one in each hand, and we high-tailed it back up the hill. We never did find their mother - she must have gotten caught up in the fire somewhere. That blaze ended up burning through five thousand acres before some blessed rain finally came and helped us get it under control. A lot of animals didn't make it that day, and I'm afraid their mama was probably one of them.

We had every intention of finding those pups good homes, but somehow it just felt right to keep them around. They ended up starting quite a dynasty at the firehouse. I think we were on the third or fourth generation of firehouse dogs by the time I finally moved on from that place. Those were some of my favorite years, actually. That old logging community was perfect for fishing - plenty of good spots along the river. The town was never quite the same after the mill burned down, but it survived, adapted. I sometimes wonder if it's still there, if any of it would look familiar. If I knew how to get back there, I might just take a look, but honestly, I'm not even sure I remember the way anymore."

John and Sally sat in comfortable silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts about times gone by. "You know, things really have changed," Sally finally said. "I find myself thinking more and more about those old places, wondering what it would be like to go back and see them again. But then I wonder if I should even bother. I get the feeling that nothing I remember would still be there anyway. I'm comfortable here, so why complicate things?" John nodded thoughtfully and started clearing the breakfast dishes. Another day, another fish, another story. Life was good - predictably, reliably good - and John never tired of it.

"Hey there, Tekky!" John calls out as he spots his old friend Ben making his way up the lane. He's called him Tekky for years now - Ben used to be a technician back in the day when being a jack-of-all-trades actually meant you could fix just about anything with moving parts or wires. There's not much Tekky can't repair, though you'll have to put up with his grumbling about it the whole time.

"What brings you out this way? Haven't seen you for a few days," John asks.

"Oh, I could practically feel you fretting about that fishing rod you managed to tangle up something fierce, so I figured I'd better get myself over here and sort it out for you," Ben says in that friendly but slightly exasperated tone of his. "Good thing too - I'm going to need that rod bright and early tomorrow morning," John says, handing over the rod with what looks like a bird's nest of fishing line wrapped around the reel. "You know, John, if you'd just think better thoughts about your equipment,

it wouldn't get itself all twisted up like this. You've got to take care of your things if you want them to take care of you. When your thoughts get all tangled up, everything else follows suit." Ben gives the same little lecture every time, and John always responds the same way: "Well, if I didn't create messes for you to fix, where would be the joy in life?" They both grin as Ben settles in to work on untangling John's latest creation.

"How's the missus doing?" John asks, making conversation. "She's fine," Ben replies, "but she's been acting a bit strange lately. I think it's because all the kids have gone off to do their own thing, God knows where. They'll come visit if she specifically asks them to, but she gets frustrated that they don't just show up on their own anymore. I keep telling her they've got their own lives now and don't want to be bothered with us old folks all the time. But I guess she just expects a little more appreciation, you know? Though when I asked her when was the last time she just dropped in on her own mother, she just grumbled that her mom's too busy with her own activities too. I think she's just feeling a bit left out of things." John nods along, though he's really focused on rigging up a new lure. Ben and his wife are one of the few couples who came to this little lakeside community together - most of the older folks here are on their own, having parted ways with their spouses long before making the move. Ben was actually instrumental in creating the lake in the first place, and John's always been grateful for that. He likes to say he couldn't have done it better himself. There was some kind of trouble wherever Ben and his wife lived before, and they ended up coming to the lake together as a fresh start.

"Hey Ben, I've been doing some thinking lately. Well, mainly it's Sally who's got me thinking, actually - about the old days and all. She's always asking for stories, and lord knows I've got plenty of them, so I don't mind sharing. But it gets me remembering things, wondering what everything looks like back there now. I find myself curious about whether I should go back and take another look at the old place, see how it's changed." John pauses, waiting for Ben's thoughts, but his friend is deep in concentration, working on the tangled line.

After a moment, Ben looks up. "I'm not sure we can go back now, to be honest with you. I haven't heard anything from the old places in a very long time. I doubt much of anything we remember is still there. But I know what you mean about Sally - she's been coming by my place too, collecting stories. She was just a teenager when she got here, so she doesn't have many tales of her own yet. She gets restless pretty easily. My wife can keep her occupied for hours talking about the kids and grandkids and great-grandkids, but Sally... well, she wants her own adventures, not our hand-me-down memories. I think she's getting the itch to leave this place. She's been asking about it, but I'm honestly not sure what to tell her. I know I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, but for her sake, maybe I should look into what the options are."

"That would be great, Ben. And if you find out anything, let me know, will you? I might just like to take a visit myself - just to see what's there now, you know?" John sits patiently as Ben puts the finishing touches on the rod repair, handing it back in perfect working order.

"Thanks, Ben. I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all, John. I'll let you know what I find out. I saw Sally sitting with you when I was coming up the hill, but she'd vanished by the time I got here."

"Yeah, she does that," John replies with a slight smile. "I didn't even notice her leave - she just sort of appears and disappears like that. But she'll be back in the morning for fish. It's become our little routine. Give my regards to your wife, will you?"

"Will do, John. And try to have some kind thoughts about your equipment - I may not always be around to fix it for you," Ben says with a grin as he heads back down the path.