I am somewhere in the middle now. Brackish.
Since I was a little girl and could walk into a brook and scoop minnows in my hands, fish have had a hold on me. Some of my best and earliest memories are of my grandparents taking me crabbing. Snapping claws thrown in a bucket that would most certainly tip over on the ride back home. We’d pull over along the roadside while chaos insued. All of us filled with laughter. Occasionally we got to join in on the flounder fishing, but it was rare, my grandfather thought only boys should fish the ocean. I guess the old folks never knew what kind of mark they left on me with those fishing/crabbing trips. I never told anyone as a child that I could not settle myself down to go to sleep at night. My thoughts would be filled thinking about being as far out on the ocean possible. All alone in a boat, lines out waiting for the fight. And they would fight… tuna, marlin, sword….but in the end they always got away, just have never left my thoughts.
When my grandparents passed away a few years ago we had an invite to take anything we wanted when the estate was finally settled. Looking around the house filled with their daily lives was one of the hardest things I have ever done. My Grandmother was the kindest person I have even known. Most of my time growing up was spent in her presence. As I glanced at what was there…. filled with emotion, I spotted a rod/reel tossed in a pile of things to be trashed. It was his, my Granfathers. That combo suited him just fine to provide many a flounder dinner. It also set in motion a chain of events that would eventually change my life forever.
It brought back every dream and hope I had as a little girl. It set me free.