Dad had mentioned our fishing trip would require an early start. Early to me meant 9:30 or so. However, he used the term, “dark-thirty.” I wasn’t familiar with it and just figured it was a bit before my definition of early. So, I hit the sack knowing he would wake me whenever dark-thirty rolled around.
I was deep in slumberland when dad’s gentle nudging brought me to life. He is one of the strongest men I know yet his hand gently shook my shoulder as he whispered it was time to get up. He is an outdoorsman and he always took the time to introduce the outdoors to me. He is an outdoor writer and communicator, and his objective is to allow others to see the outdoors through his eyes. However, I found my eyes at dark-thirty to be a bit blurry.We exited the house and checked the tie-downs on the canoe. Our destination was a private lake on his friend’s farm.
After the canoe was deemed to be secure dad loaded the fishing gear and life jackets. He always had a special pole rigged with a rubber worm for me. He knew they were easy for a young girl to fish with, and I once caught a 7-pound bass on one from my grandparent’s farm pond.
As we pulled out of the driveway I was brimming with excitement. It was just dad and me with a whole day ahead of us. However, before we hit the long road to the farm we pulled into a WAWA convenience store where they had the best coffee on the planet! I was never allowed to drink coffee at 5 years old, but we never told mom about our little ritual and it remained a secret to this day.
I can remember it with crystal clarity. Dad driving down the road with one hand on the wheel and one hand on his coffee. Then there was me, two hands gripping the steamy cup and a smile that stretched ear to ear. I’d give anything to be there one more time. I know it meant the world to dad also. He reminisces about those days often.
Soon, we pulled into a pristine hay field. What transpired next will be remembered for as long as I breathe air.Dad came to a stop and said, “Come sit on my lap and steer as we drive the country lane around the field to the pond.” I eagerly jumped at the chance and remember feeling on top of the world! We had the windows down and the smell of fresh cut hay permeated the air. There was no better place I would have wanted to be.
After untying the boat we pulled it to the side where nervous frogs hopped in and spied us with their curious eyes. Dad secured my life vest then shoved off. There wasn’t too long of a paddle before we started tossing worms in hopes of fooling a big bass. Dad hooked into one first and gave me the pole to reel in. He always allowed me to reel his fish in, but I was pretty good with a fishing pole myself. In fact the next few fish fell to my casts, and the sight of those jumping bass still bring back special memories.
We don’t get to fish as often as dad or I would like anymore. I know it bothers him because it isn’t easy on me. I’m a grown young lady now with college courses and new friends taking up the lion’s share of my time. However, each and every day I get to take in the beauty of Keuka Lake at my college. It reminds me of those carefree days in the front of the canoe with my dad.
However, when I am faced with a particularly tough day I can reminisce about my childhood. It was an amazing time in my life. I am definitely blessed and thankful for the experiences that shaped me into the person I am today. I wouldn’t give those days up for anything in this world.
I can never get those days back with my dad. They are 13 years behind me. However, the aroma of a fresh WAWA coffee, the smell of a fresh cut field of hay, and the pride I had behind the wheel of his Chevy truck are forever etched in memory.
Editor’s Note: The author is 18 years old and studying to be an occupational therapist at Keuka College in New York’s Finger Lake Region.
