Fishing with dad. Few things bring me more joy. I don’t remember the first time I went fishing, or the first fish I caught because I started fishing with dad at age 3. I’m not sure how old my first fishing memory is, but there are many of them because he took me often. I remember coming home from my grandparent’s house a couple doors down and seeing our first Tracker fishing boat in the driveway. I remember the time I fell in the water trying to untangle dad’s line, and the time I fell in pulling up the anchor. Sure, I remember the fish, the weekend trips, and all the fun fish stories. Mostly, I remember that my dad was there. He was my hero, and still is. It’s the time spent together that means the most to me.
Thanks for taking me fishing, dad. It means a lot. I hope I can be half the dad you are.
Happy Father’s Day. I can’t wait for our next fishing trip.
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