Fishing

When I was about 11 or 12 and our family was visiting Grammie and Grandpa Smith in New Hampshire, mom took me with her when she went out to the brook behind their place to go fishing. I had never seen mom fish, but she acted confident and experienced, and she looked excited to be doing it again. I guess it had been a while. Anyway, I don’t think mom had a fishing pole – instead she had to stand at the edge of the brook and toss the hooked bait into the water. She moved from point to point as she fished. Mom did catch a couple of fish – rainbow trout maybe – but not until after she lost her balance on a precarious part of the bank, fell and got partly wet. No harm done; and the fish became part of dinner.