Though I know spring is right around the corner, and I look forward to the rebirth of nature’s bounty and for some of you, the births of new little ones who’ll soon be pitter-pattering on your hearts can’t come soon enough…I just can’t help but bitch about this particular time change; and never more this year than any other.
I don’t know what it is.
It’s not the extra daylight surely. Who doesn’t like the normalcy of waking up in the light and going to sleep when it’s dark?
It’s not the rain because I’ve never minded a good ol’ rainy day. I love them actually.
Who wouldn’t, knowing this beauty below, from a year ago, is drinking it up so it can make another grand entrance?
That said though, It just feels, to me, that the spring daylight savings robs more of the day than it gives.
When I wake in the morning, it feels too late.
When I retire at night, it feels too early.
When I think about lunch, it’s too close to dinner.
When I think about dinner, it’s too soon after lunch.
Feeling this way, you’d think the fall time change would make me feel the opposite…
Up too early; to bed too late; starving by lunch; when the hell is dinner.
Right?
But no…I feel none of that. And frankly, I don’t remember the spring change feeling this intense before either.
I keep asking myself “What the hell is it this year that makes me feel so irritable about it all?”
And then it hits me. Or at least, I think it does.
Along with all I do look forward to in the spring, now, there are things I know I’ll never see or do or feel again.
At least, not in the same way.
I’ll never see the joy on his face when the ice has retreated enough for us to take poles in hand and put lines to water, hoping for enough perch for dinner or, at the very least, stories grand enough for everyone to swallow…
HooK Line and SinKer
We’ll never walk the rocky path through the woods, looking for that one spot that offers the perfect balance of flat rock and branch-free air, to sit and cast a line (not to mention a hearty tree trunk to hide behind for those necessary times).
Or a high, flat bank, on which to perch a chair to jerk a perch.
I’ll never feel the strong surety of his hands as he takes the ‘big’ one off my line because I jumped instead of jerked, so that fish swallowed it all…
HooK Line and SinKer
I’ll never see him begin another spring outing as the 5’7″ man he was, only to end the day coming in at a cool 5’11” from the mud cake that grew on the bottom of his shoes; we, full anticipation for the tall tales about big fish, that we willingly swallowed…
HooK Line and SinKer
I know the memories of these times are what are important.
I know too, that when the fall arrives, there will be even more that will make me miss him even more.
The scores of memories of him saying “Let’s take this road, there’s a great barn you need to see!”
Those are the ones that will make me weep first and smile again…after a time.
Those times, though as forever behind me as they are in the rear-view above, will always be the happiest times we shared.
But I also know and will remember well, that when next the boys lower the boat to kiss the Clyde one misty morning, he will be there.
He’s probably there now…waiting…for the ice to break, the fish to come up for air, and us kids to show up with all we need, to keep the traditions going and the memories fresh.
He’ll be there.
And we’ll be there.
Ready to take it all…
HooK Line and SinKer.
Absolutely beautiful – all of it WW, hook, line and sinker..xo, m
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you SK…Love you xo
LikeLike
Oh my, this is written with so much love and nostalgia. Your photos are great and so is the writing. I don’t how you come up with so many grand things to write about and is such a loving way.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Yvonne, there you go again. Your comments are so full of encouragement…I can’t tell you how they lift me up. I have such strong memories of all the times with my Dad, and though I felt angry and sad when I began this post, by the end, I was softly crying but my heart felt lighter, just for the memories that came with the writing. That’s why I write…to remember, to feel, to move forward, to heal. You are such a kind person, thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Rhonda, when I comment on what you write, it is with sincerity and you are an excellent writer in my humble opinion.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know your comments are straight from the heart. Thank you
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Rhonda♡ Beautiful. Love you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you my Paula. Love you too
LikeLike
love you xo
LikeLiked by 1 person
xoxo Jules
LikeLike
What a beautiful and poignant post. I feel almost as if I knew your father – you write so well about him and the photos are fantastic. I lost my dad when I was 19 and can so relate to the weepy/smiley memories. Lots of love to you Rhonda.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Jules. He and I were a lot alike, so you do know him in a way. And, from what you say about your own memories, I suppose I should clear out a corner of my heart and make up a permanent bed for Dad’s memory companion, Bitter Sweet. I’m okay with that. Love to you my friend
LikeLike
Love.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Audra…that word says it all.
LikeLike
There are so many ways a person can touch the heart of another, and being able to do that is a gift. You my friend, have that gift through your writing. Oh, how lucky we are to be able to read what you write. It takes us to where you are, sometimes to experience the sadness, sometimes causing us to shed a tear and yet at other times revel in the pure joy of your reflection of something so special. Brian
LikeLiked by 1 person
Brian, you humble me my friend. I think it would surprise a great many people to find out that you and I have not seen each other for more than 40 years for this is a comment from a true friend. Thank you so very much for these words and more so, for the love behind them. It proves, in my heart, that I am very much like my father…he too made friends for a lifetime. xo
LikeLike
Xoxo
LikeLiked by 1 person
This really touches the heart. What a beautiful tribute.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Andrew, I appreciate your saying so, truly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sigh… really SB, you brought a tear to my eye. Time change aside, look forward to the sunshine and the rebirth of the land. It’s close now.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is very close here…and I’m trying NB
LikeLike
Be well, SB. I’m thinking of you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh..so beautiful. What an amazing tribute to him – love you xoxo
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love you too BonBon xoxo
LikeLike
Very, very moving Rhonda. Thank you for such a human and touching post.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Don
LikeLike
Love this post, hard for the first year of ‘firsts’ but take it one baby step at a time and next time you are fishing, listen to his voice on the wind…xoxo
LikeLiked by 1 person
I will do just that Yvonne. Thank you. xoxo
LikeLike