A few years back, my uncle stood with my cousin and me on the banks of the Brokenstraw Creek that ran through Youngsville. He advised us to fish for trout in the bend where it gets deep. He had given us similar advice before, but what struck me was how he punctuated his advice. "You boys oughta float some night crawlers where the riffles begin to even out." Boys. There I was a thirty-something man with three kids so appreciative to be called a boy.
"I am so lonely, but I know there is a plan. There must be. I can muscle through my life until the next move is clear. I miss you all so much. I am alone for most of the time. It's just me and the cats and dogs. Nobody comes up. Nobody stops by. It's not like it used to be -- so full of life. Perhaps I'll move down there with you. But not now. There is a plan, and I must follow it. I must follow it even though it's too quiet around here."
Interesting
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