In the absence of wind the surface of water becomes a mirror, replicating the sky. Even understanding the physics of a perfect reflection, it remains magical to witness. At sunset the other night I passed the little pond on the corner. A spectacular sunset was also within the silver surface of the still water. I stopped to appreciate the moment. Something broke the surface and small circles appeared in the perfection. At that instant the times I spent fishing with my parents became immediate, palpable, dear.
All those moments when my intent was fixed upon a red and white bobber floating on the surface of a pond or the Little Walnut River, determined to wait for the exact moment to set the hook and catch a fish - it was all there, almost as warm and immediate as when we were together fishing. For once, I did not recall my parents with a sense of loss and longing. It was as if my mother and father were present with me in that small, quiet instance, sharing their memories of fishing together, too. It has been a very long time since I felt that protective, nourishing, bedrock energy of love that parents effortlessly cast about their children. It is the energy we are born into and nurtured within. I had almost forgotten how it felt to be their daughter. I believe they intended to remind me.