Page 50 of Changing Tides

“Are you ready?” I ask, smiling warmly as I hand her a small fishing rod.

She nods, her tiny hands clutching the pole with determination. “Yes. Can we catch a big fish?”

I chuckle. “We’ll sure try.”

With gentle guidance, I show her how to hold the rod and cast her line into the water. Her giggles fill the air as she struggles to mimic my movements, and her enthusiasm is infectious. I remember how exciting it was the day Dad and Gramps took me fishing for the first time.

“Like this,” I say, demonstrating the proper technique. “You have to be patient and wait for the fish to bite. Sometimes, it takes a bit for them to come around.”

We back up, place her pole in one of the anchors, and take a seat in the sand behind it.

She crosses her arms over her knees and focuses on the line. We sit in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the water against the shore and Parker and Anson’s occasional chatter.

Leia’s excitement begins to wane as the minutes pass by without any action.

“I don’t think the fish like me, Bastian,” she says, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

I scoot beside her and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Fishing takes time, kiddo. Sometimes, you have to wait for the perfect moment.”

Determined not to let her spirits dampen, I decide to change tactics. I reach into the bait box, pull out a small worm, and dangle it in front of her.

“Would you like to try baiting the hook?” I ask, a playful twinkle in my eye.

Her face wrinkles up as she takes in the wiggly creature before she decides to be brave and reaches for the worm.

I pull it back.

“Not so fast. Watch me first,” I instruct as I take one of the spare poles lying on a towel and attach the worm. “Remember, just like with the lure, you have to be careful not to poke yourself.”

“I can do it,” she boldly states.

I grab another worm from the box and hand it to her.

She giggles as it twists in her closed hand. Then, with careful concentration, she threads it onto the hook, her tiny fingers working diligently.

“There you go, Leia! You’re a natural,” I praise, admiring her determination. “Are you sure you aren’t a fisherman?”

She shakes her head.

“I think you are now,” I say as I ruffle her hair. “Remember how to cast?”

With the bait in place, she casts her line once more, her eyes scanning the water with anticipation. Minutes tick by, but this time, there is a newfound sense of patience in her demeanor.

We remain standing, and I help her keep her balance in the wind as she keeps a tight grasp on the rod.

And then it happens.

“Bastian, I think I got a fish!” Leia exclaims as the small pole in her fist begins to jerk.

I watch as her hands tighten around the rod, her face alight with joy as she feels the tug on the line. Carefully, I help her reel in her first catch—a small sunfish, gleaming in the sunlight.

Her eyes widen in awe as she holds up her prize, a radiant smile spreading across her face.

She turns, holding the line with the catch hanging off the end. “Look, Mommy. I did it! I caught a fish!”

Avie’s head pops up from the blanket, and she blinks a few times before her eyes adjust. When she sees her daughter bouncing on the balls of her feet, she gets up and comes sprinting to gush over her catch.

“Wow! Would you look at that? A fish on your first day. That’s amazing,” she praises.

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