The Start
Stood on a dock by a lake yesterday morning. Watched the sun of a new day in a new year light the sky, light the water, light the land. There was no breeze. The water was flat and placid. There was stillness and silence, marred only by the occasional pop and splash of a fish taking breakfast. As that little sound died, I thought for a bit about the days when I fished and thought this would have been a good time of day to put a line in the water.
And then I thought about the fish, and what it would be like if I threw a lure that looked like breakfast only it was plastic with a hook and what that must feel like. Surprised for sure, and at first, I felt sorry for the fish for being unable to differentiate between the artificial and the real, and then thought maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. The fish needs to eat. In the grand scheme of things, it’s probably better to grab anything that looks like food and sort it out latter because the probability of getting a hook is actually pretty slim.
And then I thought how much I or anyone else is like that fish. We need love, affection, approbation, things that feed our soul, and when something like it comes our way, we probably should grab it and sort it out latter. Because if we stop trying because we get burned once or twice, then we’ll never find it, and that could lead to a dull, lonely life. And with that, I felt as though I might have a good New Year’s resolution. I should try to remember that while all that glitters isn’t gold, and it’s harder to be a friend than say you’re a friend, there’s still gold to be found and friendships to be made, and I just needed to keep looking and doing.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale