Fishing for Lost Time
By: Allison K. Garcia
“Now, watch how I cast the line, Bryan.” The thin, plastic line whizzed through the pre-dawn air and plunked down in the sea. In the dim moonlight, a red bobber moved with the soft current. “You’ll know you’ve got something when you feel a little tug.”
Water lapped the boat. The occasional splash in the distance of marine life jumping. A seagull calling its mate. Life. Inside the boat, silence weighed heavier than any anchor.
He glanced over at the unused fishing rod. “I was never the best father.” He played with the reel. “I worked too hard on the campaign trail, missing your games, your parties, your homework. I realize now; all the money in the world could never amount to one second of time spent with you.”
In the darkness, he felt the gentle pressure of a small hand in his. Heart aching, he stared into his empty palm, knowing he had one last moment with his son.