The dawning of a new age. The passing of a torch. These are two of the phrases that describe what I witnessed this morning although I wouldn't say it was a sudden, quick toss of the torch. More like a slow, at times tedious, passing that took years and years to prepare when suddenly you look and the torch is already moving away into the distance and you just don't remember handing it off.
In this case- the one who poured blood, sweat, and tears wasn't even there to see the fruit of his labor head off in the early morning light. Instead, I was there to witness the miraculous coming of age that arrived when I dropped my son off at his very first fishing tournament in the cold, early morning hours at Presque Isle. I was
Stevie was born to do this. He's a natural. I kid you not, more than one of his science teachers have told us they turned class time over to him to allow him to share his knowledge of habitats or feeding patterns, etc. He doesn't need a lot of people around him, just nature and the freedom to fish and hunt. In this case, it was a pan fishing tournament and the only path to his freedom was a car ride from Mom or Dad. This particular competition was a partner event. My husband is on the mend from a nasty virus and couldn't go nor could the few buddies Stevie had called. If there's one thing that's certain about my son, it's his determination. I've heard his friends call his passion for fishing "dedication" which I found a very nice term for what I consider obsession. Either way, I was happy to support his love for this fresh-water sport even if I wasn't feeling elated to be up at what felt like the crack of dawn.
We drove in silence watching our breath puff out like vapor in the 32 degree weather. I glanced over at his single layer of sweatpants and wondered for the hundredth time if Stevie was capable of feeling cold or if he truly possessed a superhuman quality of being able to withstand extreme weather. When we reached the marina parking lot I swiftly veered to the right, surprised by the large group of guys lined up to sign in. I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't this. I glanced sideways to gage my son's reaction and wasn't rewarded with much other than a tightening of the jaw. He hopped out of the truck and ran around back to get his gear while I hastily pulled my unbrushed mane into a sloppy pony tail. As he headed toward the line I rolled my window down and this is when my true reward came...the bit back smile and the flash of adrenaline in his eyes as he leaned his camo-capped head toward me- allowing me to kiss his cheek. My boy has had the same signature smile- a shy grin he tries to bite back to hide his excitement for as long as I can remember. I quickly said good luck and watched my son hurry to the line, buckets, poles, and bait in hand- determined to enter his first fishing tournament out of what I'm sure will be many. And just like that, it happened. He became his own man, without worry that he didn't have a partner. He wasn't
Later that morning, worn out from rising early and the rush of getting the family ready for Mass and teaching religious education to an energetic group of fourth graders, I allowed myself the luxury of an afternoon nap. The phone rang and I heard my husband answer. It was Stevie. This time I was gifted the few extra minutes of sleep while my husband headed down to the Peninsula to gather our son. He was back within half an hour. I groggily asked how Stevie did and he simply said, "I'll let him tell you." I didn't have to wait long after closing my eyes again. I felt my son poking my shoulder and looked up into his smiling eyes.
Though he didn't win first place team event, he did bring home the prize for the largest fish.
I've already been told the next tournament is a mere two weeks away. I think it's safe to say Stevie is hooked!
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