The Huz told me last week, “I don’t care what the Hell is going on next weekend, we’re going fishing.”
Years ago, long before I ever figured out what life was all about, I would have cringed at that statement. I didn’t want to go fishing, for crap’s sake. I had shit to do. Kids to chase. Laundry to fold. Work to finish. Sleep to sleep. You know, I would have done just about anything to get out of going fishing.
I grew up going every now and again with my father, but not too often. It was fun-ish, but my attention span did not support a long day on the banks. Dad knew.
The Huz has always loved going. He took our kids when they were little. He went as often as we could afford, and that wasn’t much.
But, now that the kids are older and won’t die if we leave them for more than twenty minutes, I love going fishing!
I love sitting by the water, so that’s a positive. But really, I crave that time with him. I love going and sharing some time doing things together. The older I get, the more of him I need.
So, Sunday, we are heading to the coast to fish at our favorite pier. I can’t wait for a day in the sun with my guy!