Wednesday, December 27, 2006
My fondest memory of my Dad occurred one summer day out in the middle of a mountain lake. “Don't jerk it. Just reel it in real slow, my father whispered. But it was so difficult. I hated to wait for anything. I usually took forever to decide what I really wanted, but once I decided, I wanted it right now. And right now I wanted to catch a fish.
My father seemed to sense my impatience. The big ones didn't get that way by snapping the first thing to hit the water, he said quietly. You'll soon find that anything big and worthwhile usually takes a lot of time.”
Then, with a smile that I will never forget, he added, After all, I've already spent eight years on you.”
Angel Feathers Tickle Me