Sitting on the creek bank of life

As I sit at the creek today fishing tackle in hand, I am reminded of past trips, other creeks. The first one to come to mind is Rio Bonito near Ruidoso New Mexico. While they are worlds apart in both location and temperament, the similarities are still there. Rio Bonito is where I went on while not my first but my first as an adult trip to New Mexico. It is also where I caught my very first rainbow trout. So long ago now, I can't even remember the date. But I remember the creek and the fish. I also caught my very first brook trout there as well. A tiny little creature no bigger than the finger on my hand. He was in a tiny pool in a tiny little stream of water shaded by a thick bush. I seen him not darting back and forth as most fish but regally swimming in his own little kingdom. I put forth a tiny little bit of metal, hair, and plastic not unlike the one I am using today. At first he royally ignored it but soon I was able to coax him into a strike. And the battle while small by normal standards was memorable. He put forth every once of strength he possessed to be rid of the hook. But soon I hand him to hand. As I briefly admired his beauty than gently placed him back in his water I never once thought that years later I would be able to recall this exact moment. That place is now destroyed. Destroyed by forest fire and the floods that followed. Filling the lake and river alike with trees and ash and mud awaiting the future. So the cycle of nature continues. Life followed by death followed by rebirth. I am also reminded of the Cimarron River in northern New Mexico. I visited there as part of a week long soul rejuvenating trip on my motorcycle. I packed fishing gear just for the chance to fish however briefly. I hooked my largest rainbow and my only brown trout there. While neither one of them would be much of a trophy to most, they are special to me. For it is not the size of the fish but the memory of the catch. And so life continues and I go here and there always on the go it seems. But for these brief moments of peace and tranquilly and pure focused thought I might be tempted to give up on the world. And so here I am sitting on the bank of a tiny little creek just hoping for a fish to bite.