Just fishing.

We went fishing--because that's what we always do. 

But there was something about that sunshiny, wispy-cloud, warm and breezy fall morning that kept me from even one cast. I laid across the bench seat at the front of the boat, hanging my feet over the side, toes brushing across the cool, glass-like water. With my eyes closed and face towards the sun, Dad's line zipping would occasionally break through the sound of our favorite country station humming in the background. If I perched up and shaded my eyes with a hand, I'd see him kiss the back of a slimy fish for good luck before he threw him back in the water.

It was a simple morning.