Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Father (as in paternal parent, not God) (04/10/08)
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TITLE: My Prince Charming's Last Smile | Previous Challenge Entry
By Nana Bunch
04/14/08 -
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He had the fishing poles ready - the bait bucket was loaded with little slivers of darting minnows. Tins of wriggling night crawlers waited on the ground nearby. His tackle box overflowed with flies and lures – a vast collection of years gone by. The air was damp and I could smell the worms. I was not looking forward to skewering the hooks into the slimy little creatures. I HATED WORMS! I knew that Dad would not allow my skittishness to interfere with baiting hooks – you either did it … or you didn’t fish.
I had lugged the oars down to the shoreline all alone – it was a struggle for my small frame. They were heavy and cumbersome, threatening to knock me off balance. I was determined to do my best. I was going fishing with my Dad … just the two of us. I felt like a Princess going out with her Prince Charming, and I would savor every moment.
All the miscellaneous gear was tossed into the small boat - a tough and sturdy hand-me-down aluminum relic of my Grandfather’s. Climbing aboard, Dad dropped the oars in place with a thud, and we pushed off. He began to row. The patterns in the water caused by the pulling oars were like mini swirling pools leaving tiny holes in the water as we moved along. The air was clean and fresh, just waiting for Dad and me to take advantage of a perfect fishing day.
The lake was so calm and peaceful. Petit Lake, it was called - aptly named for its size. The silence was captivating. A few ducks quacked over head and we could hear them in the distance as they splash landed. I was so excited – I loved spending time with my Dad.
For several hours we continued to bait hooks, tossed the lines in, and reeled in the hooked fish close to the boat. We slipped them off the hooks one after another, loading them onto the string that was dragging lazily along side the boat. How I loved watching his face as he expertly cast his line into a perfect fishing bed. He waited patiently for the yank on the bobber signaling a catch. He smiled at me, but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut. “You can’t catch fish when you’re flapping your lips”, he whispered, like always. We softly chuckled into the silence. After a few hours we had a nice mess of pan fish – sunnies, blues, and a couple of bass. There was plenty for the whole family for breakfast. The sweet smell of frying fish in an old black cast iron frying pan was a memory made of gold.
I have never forgotten that day, so long ago. He worked hard, providing well for his family, but he didn’t have many free moments to spend with each of us. As I look back, remembering my childhood and his awkward relationship with my mother, I often wondered if the dedication to his life’s work kept him away for long hours on purpose.
Dad suffered from Parkinson’s Disease the last ten years of his life, and eventually he was moved to a nursing home. He could no longer walk and needed around-the-clock care. His mind was sharp to the end, but his body failed him. The closeness that I had always dreamt of became a reality that last year of his life. He wanted so badly to go “Home”. He just wanted to be with Jesus.
I saw him the night before a massive heart attack finally took him. It was a gift from God that I was able to say good-bye. His peaceful countenance and a lingering soft smile were what he left behind, reminding me of his smile the time we went fishing, when I was the Princess and he was my Prince Charming. The smile was still evident on his lips the next morning, which took me by surprise. Heart attacks are painful, often causing contorted features, but yet, the only expression that remained was a smile on his face … the testimony of a child running with joy, into the waiting arms of his Father.
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If anything, it lost focus a bit toward the end...maybe just tell the fishing story?
Nice writing, good descriptive passages.