fishing.

  Almost as long as I can remember, my Dad has gone fishing, and when I was about eleven I starting going with him. Somehow I developed a love for the pastime I have not been particularly successful at. I have caught my fair share of keepers, but when my Dad and I go fishing, we usually come close to setting records with the numbers hardheads we catch. This Thursday was no different as my Dad, my little brother and I headed out to Surfside to try and catch a bull red.
  By the time we got out to the beach, the sun had fallen below the horizon and a little slip of crescent moon was rapidly sinking after it. The sparse clouds above and the breakers of the waves were lit by a flare burning at a power plant to the west. I tied rigs to both my brother's and my fishing rods with no-name knots that would have made a boy scout cry, then my Dad took my brother's rod and cast it out for him. I picked my way through the seaweed strewn over the beach and waded into the water until the ocean splashed half-way up my calves. My first cast was unsuccessful, because the line wrapped around the tip of my rod and jerked as I brought it over my shoulder. After fumbling with my rod to get the line unwrapped, I casted out again. The second try was better, but not perfect as my rig did not land where I wanted it to. It turned our fine though because within a minute some unsuspecting fish had tried to eat my bait and found a hook affixed to the corner of its mouth. I reeled it in, and since it was a hardhead I unhooked it and threw it back.
  That hardhead was the first six I caught. One right after the other chomping on the bait I had lobbed into the ocean, getting reeled in, unhooked and thrown back. After a while I found that fishing was rapidly putting on years. Somewhere between my third and forth fish I sighed and looked up above the horizon at the stars. I do not live in the city, but at my house there are not many stars to be seen at night. There is not much to light up the sky above the ocean and the light of a thousand suns burns over the water. While I watched the stars glittering I saw a shooting star tear across the sky, and my seemingly pointless fishing trip earned its worth. I dug my toes into the sand and kept watching till another hardhead took my line. Who needs fish when you have a sky full of stars.