Fishing Season
“Where’d the time go?”, he wondered walking in his backyard drinking his morning coffee. “How many days and weeks amounting to months did I wish winter away? Now it’s gone, the daffodils are in bloom and I’m still right here, where it all began and I haven’t even ordered the new rods yet. Am I wasting my life away? I wish she were still here. Things be different then. I’d be alive. Not giving in.” He usually awoke at half past five in the morning, suffering an old habit from years at the...