After dinner last night, I was preparing to do the dishes when my daughter walked up to me and looked at me with those eyes that told me she was going to ask me to do something she thought I might say ‘no’ to. “Daddy,” she begged meekly, “will you take me out for ice cream?” Ice cream is one of my weaknesses and it was hard…no, it was impossible for me to say no to this.
As is our tradition, we got the ice cream and drove to the beach. With it being September, the place was deserted. The sun was already behind the land across the river and the water was nearly glass. The sky was a perfect gradation of blues, except for that narrow band of fiery orange at the horizon. A tiny sliver of moon hung about four fingers above the horizon. As we sat in my truck shoveling soft serve into our mouths, I saw several pods of small bait running frantically into the shallows, probably being harassed by snapper blues.
A small inlet was dumping out under a nearby bridge and a young angler was there flipping flies into the tide. I watched him struggling to lay out a perfect cast, he tried back-casting too, but never seemed satisfied with his throws. Still, he tucked the rod under his arm and would streak his streamer back to the tip before throwing again.
A few minutes later he was joined by another young angler, this one wielding a light spinning rod. It was clear, without hearing them, that they were very good friends and it reminded me of so many trips with my friend Alex when we were teenagers. Having to get our parents to drive us somewhere to fish or pushing my canoe out into the lake behind my house to fish until we couldn’t take the sun anymore. I don’t have the memory space for all of those great times, but I know they happened and I definitely know that looks and feels like.
We finished our ice cream and got out for a quick walk in the deepening dusk. The two anglers were now walking down the beach to the next inlet and I thought, if I could catch up to them, it would make such a great photo. But even as I picked up my pace, these two were having the time of their lives. Laughing, throwing rocks, talking about sports and girls and heaven knows what else. In that moment, I knew I didn’t want to become part of this memory. Even though it was one that would be likely to fade with time. For some reason, it seems to me that capturing the moment would somehow drain its magic.
I also looked back over my shoulder at this cartwheeling 10-year-old with bare feet and realized that she was only a few years from these moments herself. Those first times when, as a parent, you have to drop the lead and let them feel the unknown of being responsible for what happens. What an exciting moment as a teenager, but I’m only now coming to realize that it’s going to be heavy as a parent.
But I won’t steal that away from her when the time comes. Because of how my own experiences shaped me and how those experiences lead to bonds that have lasted my whole life. My dad would tell me, “These are the best years of your life” and as I watched these two boys running down the beach, with fishing rods in their hands and not a single worry in their hearts, I knew he was right.
