The moment was not brief, as I stood beside the truck and questioned my mental state. It was also not the first time I’d done so. Who in their right mind would leave the comfort and warmth of their own home to stand riverside in the pre-dawn darkness and sub-zero temperatures? No one. No one but me of course. Maybe my wife was right in calling me crazy when I refused her invitation back to the warm bed.
At first it hadn’t seemed to cold but as the guides on my rod began to freeze I once again questioned whether or not I was all there. Snow in flakes the size of my fist piled around me. Fingers and toes protested the cold. Anyone who could have seen me would write me off as crazy. Who was I to dispute? My mind drifts back to summer days. How I envied the angler that once was, in the back of a boat, letting the hot sun cook his skin. I can almost feel it’s warmth. Oh to be there now.
Any body part that was left even slightly exposed, was now starting to hurt. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I still standing here? What could possibly be so great to subject myself to such torture? Questions that are all answered the instant the float drops. Questions that are all moot. In that moment all is forgotten.