Watching the Fish

I am not exactly sure where this photograph was taken, but based on the date, I think I was around four years old. When I looked at the photograph, I had vivid memories of my parents taking my sister and I fishing.

I remembered my parents talking about how my mom would bait the hook, and my dad would take the fish off the hook, but neither was willing to do the other task.

I had a memory of a wood dock and I was lying on my tummy, peering into the clear water, watching the fish swim amongst the green, wavy weeds.

And then a different memory came to me, I was alone on a dock and I wanted so badly to bait my own hook. I tipped the worm container, and a worm fell out onto the dock. I remember holding the hook and thinking how proud my parents would be of me, if I baited the hook and caught a fish on my own.

I took the hook, and tried without actually touching the worm, to stab the worm and bait the hook. I couldn't do it. I remember feeling torn between wanting to bait the hook, and surprise my parents, and not wanting to hurt the worm.

I scooped the worm back into the container. I couldn't bear to hurt it.

Looking back, it only makes sense that I would rather watch the fish swimming peacefully in the lake.