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On Saturday morning, Gil drove over to his daughter Julia’s house, and his son-in-law Mike waved to him from his lawn tractor. Two little faces appeared in the front window. Ziggy and Dez were jumping up and down, happy to see their Grampy. Julia opened the front door to let them out, and they dragged him to the swing set in the backyard. Ziggy was old enough to get himself swinging, so Gil focused on helping Dez into her swing while they giggled and chatted.
Mike shut off the tractor and walked over. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Gil pushed the girls a few more times. “I retired a few days ago.”
“You what? For real?”
“Yup, for real.” Gil gave him a big smile.
He came over and shook his hand. “Wow! What are you going to do?”
“Whatever I want! I decided that I need to spend more time on my health. I had a sleep study at the hospital a couple of weeks ago. I really need to fix my sleep problem. I also want to start exercising more. I could lose a few pounds—maybe more than a few. I’ll need to get a few new hobbies too.”
“Do Julia and Amelia know?”
“You’re the first I’ve told. I’m going in to talk to Julia. I’ll call Amelia today when she wakes up on California time. Maybe I’ll go visit her soon.” Ziggy leaped out of his swing while it was at its peak, and landed on his feet. “Whoa! When did you learn to do that?” Ziggy ran over to the slide and clambered up it.
Julia came out and gave Gil a hug. “What’s up, Grampy?”
“I retired this week.”
“Holy moly, that’s great! She thought for a few seconds and said, “Wow! Are you moving to Florida?”
Gil chuckled. “No, but I might go south in the winter. Your mother never wanted to go there, but I might. It’s been over a year since she died, you know, so I think it’s time for me to change things up a bit. I’m going fly fishing later.”
“What do you know about fly fishing?” Mike asked.
“Well, I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube about it, and I ordered a bunch of stuff online. I’ll decide if I need some casting lessons.”
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Gil was glad he found a spot to park near the river where there were no other people around. He donned his chest waders and boots, put on his safety belt, chest pack, sunglasses, and hat, and hung a net off the left side of his vest. After approaching the river bank, he assembled his rod. He was ready.
He eyed a path from the river bank to a shallow, gravelly area in the middle of the stream. As he eased into the water, his leg sunk into the silt and just kept sinking. When his foot stopped sinking about two feet down, he stood awkwardly with his other foot high up on the bank. He tried to turn around to right himself, but his submerged foot was stuck in place. He threw his rod onto the bank.
There was a root sticking out of the river bank, so Gil hooked the heel of his free foot on it. This position was even more awkward, but he had enough leverage to slowly pull his mud-suctioned leg free. Relieved, he found himself sitting on dry land.
He found a better path out to the gravelly area and was getting the hang of casting his Adams dry fly. It was a beautiful afternoon, and he’d seen a couple of fish rise to the surface. After a few more casts, he heard a fish make a big splash on the surface within casting distance. Gil flicked the rod back gracefully and waited a few seconds for the fly line to stretch out behind him. He then pushed the rod forward to fling the fly toward the fish. The rod stopped mid-fling, pulling Gil so far off balance he nearly fell over. He found the culprit: his fly had caught a tree branch above the water. Damn!
He reeled in the slack and tried to pull the fly out of the tree, but it wasn’t cooperating. As he continued to try, his frustration mounted. Then he heard voices. A canoe was coming around the bend. With an audience to his blunder, Gil felt himself flush with embarrassment. But the canoe passengers weren’t alone. Soon, a flotilla of half a dozen canoes and kayaks floated downstream, trying their best to avoid hitting Gil, who was standing in the middle of the river with his fly in a tree. It reminded him of the time he wet his pants during recess in kindergarten, right in front of everyone on the playground. When the flotilla finally disappeared around the next bend, a fish jumped.