I sat there watching the bobber move in the water. As my grandfather was going on about the weather, I let my mind wander to all the fish that we'd catch that day.
I interrupted him mid-sentence. "Pop-pop do you think were gonna have a barbecue tonight? And we can invite ma? And pa? And Grammy?"
His blue eyes that are just like mine shone as he spoke, "If you can catch any fish Ill gut and clean them an we can have a big ol' barbecue."
My three year old self stood up and cheered, almost tipping the boat in the process. "Careful now you'll tip us," he said barely holding in a laugh.
I settled in and looked back at my fishing pole with a stare that willed every fish in the lake to my hook. Our small boat rocked in the slow breeze that pushed across the lake. This has been the only true home I knew at this point in my life. I lived in a small town in upstate New York. My family was originally from the outskirts of Nashville, Tennessee on the bad side of town.
My thoughts were interrupted as i heard my grandmother yell from the back porch of their trailer, "Lunch is in 10 minutes, start drawing in your lines and wash up."
My grandfather looks down at me and tells me to reel in my lines. My hands are slightly shaking from low blood sugar as I pick up my small pink rod. Once my lines are in I set the rods inside the boat and wait for my grandfather to start the boat again and coast off to shore.
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Keep fighting
ActionA challenge is like a starting gate. You can either go through it and finish the race first, or you can lag behind and be eaten by the dust. Either way you have to fight through it, the street gangs of Nashville and an abusive family cant manage to...
