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My Father's Fishing Rods
My father’s fishing rods were always part of my life in a way, either in the background when we lived in the city, or creating memories of three generations on one boat in the sea. By three generations I mean that the fishing rods for me, represent the union of the very little time my grandfather, my father and I were able to experience together, me in my younger years, and my grandfather in his last good ones, while my father got to experience the connection as the link between us. So strong was that meaning, that by the time I was old enough to own one, my father gave one to me as a birthday present, one which I will keep and cherish forever; it did not come soon enough though, for my grandfather grew old and sick, therefore unable to continue fishing with my father and I. Then life kept going on, as it usually does, and difficulties presented, as they usually do, so the amount of fishing time diminished up to the point where the fishing rods were there only as a memory of a simpler time, as opposed to one in which my grandfather lingers between life and death, and I moved on to a different stage in my own life, drifting apart from my father and leaving my younger brother his turn to experience those connections and make meaningful memories of his own. The most prominent memory that comes to mind of those glorious occasions was the three of us, in one of my grandfather’s latest trips, we did not fish anything at all, but we saw dolphins at the reach of the hand, in what always seems to be an infinite desert of salt water with treasures underneath, with the wind blowing and the waves crashing on the hull, and a sunrise as beautifully colored, it resembled a paint made with a fine brush guided by a melancholic heart, and the mighty ocean, oh the mighty ocean, that feels like that old friend you do not see in years but when you do is like nothing ever changed. Later in my life I came to the knowledge that I was the only grandson that went fishing with him, and that, being the first son of his first son, he was proud of being able to see me become a man, always remembering in contrast, those glorious adventures from years ago. When the inevitable moment that creeps in our future and comes for us all at some point finally arrives for my grandfather I know that at least he lived a thrilling life, one that I am glad I could be a part of.
