Photo courtesy of Google images

Photo courtesy of Google images

Molly Murphy


The river rushes through my mind as I see the miniscule waves wash all my thoughts awayI open my eyesI see the trees covered with leaves as they gingerly linger around meMy boots make imprints in the unkempt soil where my grandpa once stood


I can see his reflection in the water The river is speaking to me like the leaves that linger around meI can feel his presence.I can feel his warmth.


My pole takes a nosedive straight for the riverI reel it in with my cold fingers as I feel the weight of the river against meIt takes a toll on me that I will not see him againI will not see him again.


It takes all my strength to reel this fish onto landOh. There it is.The fish is the length of my palm to my fingertipsHow can something so mighty be so… bland


But once I held the mighty small fish in my handsI feel the warmth.The same warmth I felt around PaThe same warmth that filled my body when I held his hand long ago


I look down at the small sunnyHe is yellow and brown and spikes covered its scalesBut the spikes didn’t puncture meThe small mighty sunny didn’t frighten me


I can feel his presenceHis mighty looks and status But his soft caring personality lingersI let the fish go just like Pa would tell me to do.