A Fathers Day tribute – This Old Salt: Lobster Fishing With Daddy

Lobster-1I wake to the smell of toast and something else that I can’t quite determine yet. As my pup stretches beside me and licks my face, I gaze at my Fitbit only to see it’s 4:15 AM. I groan and sit up in the bed. The second mystery smell I recognize as boiled eggs and strong tea. At this point my stomach gurgles wanting tea and reminding me why I should not stay up late and drink wine before heading out fishing the next morning. This is a lesson I still not have learned obviously despite my 46 years on the planet. My father is downstairs in the kitchen mumbling to himself— something about the timing of the eggs and pants that won’t stay up. I reach for the clothes I laid out the night before and begin to dress in layers. As I bend to place the third pair of socks on, I appreciate whoever the talented person was who knitted them by hand. My toes will likely be numb by mid-morning but at least less so with the wool socks in my rubber boots. Descending the stairs, I watch the man I have loved and looked up to as my hero all of my life. Read the story here 16:16

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