Morning crept up on me with a yell at 6:12 a.m.  My alarm shook me like a south Florida hurricane tosses limbs and leaves.  The noise dragged me from a dream, but I welcomed the morning's rude awakening when I remembered today's promised jewel—fishing.

Dad, Dave, and I headed out to the fog-covered river at 6:37, stopping only for biscuits and bait, the two Bs of early-morning fishing.  The Tennessee River greeted me with a serenity I haven't known much since I left its fine shores years ago.

David caught eight fish, whereas dad and I pulled in only four each.  We left the water's nurturing arms at 12:30, and found our way back to life on land.  We ate as soon as possible, and I felt a shower wooing me.  Before long, I nestled in the caress of our loving couch, snoozing away my fatigue.

Oct 2002