I can’t say I get it all right. I don’t know if she’ll be my fishing buddy forever. She lacks the patience to actually fish, but she loves to look at them, hold them and let the go free.
She get’s frustrated easily and endurance is not her “thing.”
Still, it feels like I’m doing something right, having her out here, among the pines, Indian rhubarb, caddis and trout. Campfires. Smores. The sound of birds in the morning. The sound or the river in the distance. No baths for two days. No screens of any kind. Bugs to catch. Lizards and the odd snake. I never feel like a better parent than when I’m camping.
I’m not magic, but when I’m on a stream with my girl and a fly rod in my hand, she thinks I am.
A girl and her fish.
I’ll take it.
