This morning I was gearing up to go fishing. It was still dark and cold. I turned the smallest light on in the house so I wouldn’t wake my family. The morning light was not bright but the tiny light shined quite brightly on me and I evaluated myself and my gear…
When I looked at my gloves, I thought they were terribly inadequate with all their holes and wear marks. The light bulb in my head went on. I was just like my gloves.
Fifty years of fishing in the driftless area has a way of wearing your equipment out and indirectly wearing you out. My recent surgeries have had me feeling just like that worn and tattered glove.
I still look on the horizon and think about the next big trout. I may be tattered and worn but I can still dream.