Yesterday was my last day to fish in IL before I got on the plane to move with my family to Seoul. With only a few weeks left in the Midwest, I had some grand plans for the last finale fishing trip... alone time in my favorite creek up in Wisconsin, a trout float trip down a Michigan river, follow my best friend to his favorite New Jersey creek to fish for wild brookies, or perhaps a first & last time trip on the St. Joseph in Indiana. It was good to just sit and imagine these trips...in my own space during my frequent plane rides to and from Asia in the last months. While everyone sat through and waited for the plane to land, I was in my own space, somewhere far away and savoring each detail of the fishing trip to come. I carefully planned what fishing gear to leave out as I packed away boxes and boxes of stuff to ship over.
But as it sometimes is in life, schedules and the "things I need to do" approached me too quickly and it took over most of the days. The days came and went and while I struggled to squeeze in that last trip in the final week, it was quickly becoming reality that the trip might forever remain in my imagination... the last trip. My family spent the last couple of weeks in a hotel as we were already out of the house, and my wife encouraged me to take the trip. I had a couple of days open and I juggled the trip in my mind, but in the end, I opted to spend one day attending my son's baseball game, and the second day taking my younger son to Six Flags on a school day. See, my younger son was finally tall enough to ride the roller coasters which he's been too short to ride during the days we've been living here. I also think cutting school with dad on a school day is something every kid should experience before end of second grade. I admit, I did look up into the beautiful sky a couple of times during each of those days, imagining the trout that could have been at the end of my line. But then again, nothing can replace watching my kid smile up at me, as he stood in line anxiously waiting for his turn on the roller coaster. My older son's baseball team had a pretty embarrassing season, however they did manage to hold onto a win at the last game by a 1 point lead.
On the final day before departure, I did get to stop by the neighborhood lake where I started fly fishing (Independence Grove). During the past few years, this is where I taught myself to cast, catch a bunch of fish, and discover that fishing and I go well together. So that big fancy trip didn't happen and I will think about that every once in a while, but I also know that there will be other trips that will help wash away the memories of a fishing trip that didn't happen. In fact I stood on the banks of the Merced River in Yosemite, watching the sun set, and some of those thoughts already started to flow away with the river. In many ways, I guess I think it's proper that I wrap up my life in IL by making the blue gill and largemouth bass the last two fish I catch, before departure.
I will forever miss the Midwest, and it will always be my fishing home.
