Lost in the River

Walking along the Gallatin River in Montana, I was looking for some good water to fish in with Nick the guide. It was a sunny day out, and the other side of the river was lined with a jagged and tall stone wall with evergreens on top.

“Oooh, someone left a fly box here”

On the rock was a small box of flies (lures used for fly fishing), as if someone put it there. Somebody must have forgotten to take it. Nick carefully looked in the box and put it in his pocket saying, “Lord knows I have lost these before.”

Chuckling, I said “Now you are getting them all back.” Instead of a cheerful agreement, he responded sheepishly “I wish”

We continued to walk along the bank and eventually caught some trouts. Fly fishing is a sport that entails reeling fish in slowly, and trouts are the best because they fight the hardest. You keep the line taut, by giving a little when the fish swims away and taking in a little when the fish swims at you. It’s like a dance, isn’t it? And it’s like life as well.

We all have experienced a loss that changed us forever.





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