I’ve decided to do something new with this blog which will hopefully give me some motivation to write every day. From now on, I’ll be posting my response to a random writing prompt daily in hopes that this will help me get better at writing. If you’d like to follow along, doing your own responses to these prompts and posting them in the comments, feel free!

Today, my writing prompt is: “Write down a memorable moment you had with a relative”

 

Murky Day

The rain was coming down in a sprinkle, but it was still enough to wet the ground and cause my boots to sink into the soupy mud that covered it. Every time I lifted my foot the mixture of dirt and water would make a sucking sound which ended with a loud plop, and made me wonder why we had chosen today to go fishing. My grandpa held the poles as we walked away from the truck and crossed the park to the lakefront. I was seven years old.

When we reached the water my grandpa handed me my fishing pole. “Make sure you don’t snag the hook on anything, alright?” He said like he always did.

“Okay,” I whispered. My grandpa pulled a worm out from his tackle box and wrapped it around the hook for me, making sure that the sticky flesh of the worm concealed the menacing metal.

“Alright. You can throw it in now.” I turned toward the lake, and stared at the blackened water, but then threw my arm back and forth, casting the bobber and worm a good twenty feet out. I had done it before with my mom, and though most kids would have had trouble, I didn’t think it was all that hard.

My grandpa cast his line out too, and we stood there in silence, watching the two bobbers float up and down in the repeated ripples of the lake water. The rain pittered and pattered on my coat, making me all the more wet, but at least the coat offered some protection.

The silence was mostly my fault. My grandpa and I didn’t speak because I had always been a quiet kid. Knowing me, I probably wouldn’t have even gone fishing with my grandpa if my mom wouldn’t have made me do it. I remembered being at my grandma’s house, peeking into the room, listening to my mom and her talk about how I needed to get to know my grandpa more, and so, there I was out in that murky day, staring at a lake.

When the bobber floated close enough to me, I decided that I would reel it in and cast the line out a few more times, but just as I was about to do it, I looked down into the clear shore water and saw the most massive fish I had ever seen.

I stayed quiet, like I always did, staring at the fish as it drifted in what looked like empty space, not moving an inch, and then I screamed, “Grandpa! Grandpa! Look at the fish!” From what I could tell, the fish had heard me yell, and it took off like a bullet into darker waters.

“You saw one?” My grandpa asked.

“Yeah! Yeah! It was huge! The water was clear and it was right there! It got away though!” My grandpa stared into the water for a moment, and then he laughed.

“Well, at least we know they’re in there.” We fished for another hour, and didn’t catch anything at all, so it was difficult for my grandpa to get me to leave the lake.

“We gotta come  back again,” I said as my grandpa loaded the fishing poles into the truck. “That fish is still in there.”

“Oh I’m sure we’ll be back.” In that moment, the rain faded away, and the sun shined out of the clouds.