Enough

"As I went down to the river to pray..."



I was late getting to the river this season. Life had been busy, and I try to avoid the crowds that come with the early months of our trout season. This  is a low-water year. In such years the fish, and thus the fisher-folk, tend to bunch up. Not really a recipe for re-creation for me.

So I drove on the only day available which fell on a weekend; the lot of many of such slaves of commerce. The weather was warm and clear, so I set my expectations accordingly. I would be sharing the water with many afoot and afloat. I probably would not catch many fish, as I allowed myself a late morning start, luxuriating over coffee and time with my bride. I intentionally chose this over an early morning alarm and the hustle to claim my spot on the water at first light.

This wasn't  a fishing trip to count coup. It was more like calling on an old friend whose door I approached apologetically after a long absence.  I  wanted to see how he was faring, and revive old memories ..."do you recall that time...?"

This day I saw others on the river as friends not competitors. I stopped and exchanged pleasantries with several.."Where did you put in?  We sure picked a beautiful day to be out here. Have you fished the river much?" I wished them each safe journeys and good luck. I had not yet fished.  The smiles were enough, and I waded on.

I finally came to a bend of fast water that most passed by. It was a spot that I knew fairly well. I caught a fish in a small pocket of soft water. She was right where she should have been; in the calm encircled by chaos. It reminded me how calm is often defined by chaos. The fish and I met, then parted.

It was enough.