|The Greatest Fisherman (standard:drama, 558 words)|
|Author: bodhisattva||Added: Feb 02 2002||Views/Reads: 1835/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A man recalls his greatest achievement in life.|
I havenít always been sentimental, but lately I find myself reflecting on my past. Not what I might have done, or on things that I might regret doing. More often than not, I just like to remember some of the things Iíve accomplished in my years. Iím over eighty years old so please bear with my memory; itís not what it used to be. My name is Gus, most people used to call me Fisher, but Iíd just prefer to be called Gus, if you donít mind. The reason people called me Fisher is because thatís what I did. Most folks get known for their work, well I was known for what I did in between work. I fished, and I was damn good at it. I can still clean fish faster than any of those damn talking heads on that ESPN. Well, as I was saying, Iíve been living in the past a bit lately, I think Iíve earned it, and the one memory that I could think of time and again is of the weekend my friends and I skipped out of work and headed out for the lake. It was one of those beautiful spring days, the temperature was perfect, the sun was out, and the wind kissed your cheek like a woman at the town dance. We fished all day and into the early evening, catching more than our fair share, when we decided to call it quits. We heard about this new tavern down the road from our cabin and we were a bit curious about it. Sitting at the bar, sipping my beer, I turned my head as the door opened and in walked the downfall of my fishing career. Long, brown hair fell below her shoulders as she walked towards me. Her eyes werenít of one particular color, they seemed to change with the light, and as I would learn later, changed with her mood. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever hoped to see in my life. With eyes like that I didnít get much fishing done the rest of the weekend, or the rest of my life for that matter. We were engaged to be married by the end of the month. And next week would be our sixtieth wedding anniversary, if she were still here. Every time I close my eyes, I see that long, brown hair of hers, just for a second, but I see it. You might wonder if I regret meeting her and not being able to fish as much as I would like to, but as I said before, I donít regret anything I did, or anything I didnít do. ďMr. Ferguson.... Mr. Ferguson itís time for your medication.Ē Sorry bout that folks, but it looks like itís time for me to get going. Itís not so bad here; they feed us pills twice a day, three square meals, a bed to sleep on, and television in the afternoons. The hardest part is not being able to be with my wife. I do wish theyíd let me go fishing once in a while, but with my heart condition the doctor says that it could kill me. Most of my life, I had my wife with me, and the rest of my life I had fishing. All I have now are my memories. Tweet
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