Goin’ Fishin’

Peter Griffith: publicdomainpictures.net

Side by side. Each in his own world.  Two poles – one Granger spincast, one Ugly Stick open face- purposefully pointed toward the ripples of the backwoods’ pond. Pond… too proud a word- a small, spring-fed watering hole restocked for decades with young sunfish.

A sharp tug. Another. And it’s gone.

One- a run-away at fifteen who has returned home wondering if relationship is still possible. The other- a fragile, ninety-year-old… lost in macular degeneration. Together, but separated by forty years and fifteen feet.

One- blinded by memories of a past never encountered. Working for survival… Sneaking a look at his son before work. Careful not to awaken him.  Coming home after bedtime. Taking one last peep before turning in himself… exhausted.

The other- blinded by memories of a future never birthed. Seeing joy in a face never experienced as a boy.

A sharp tug. Another. And it’s gone.

(Written for Flash Fiction Fridays)

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