dear james

dear james, 

we just got back from the Amish market. Finn walked around with his eyes open so wide. waving to every one that we passed, looking at the bird houses made from maple and staring at the donuts through the glass case. We bought some honey crisps… another reminder that summer is over and fall is here. 

I'm trying to be excited about the fall like you told me to be. You like fall. You like the leaves when they change, the fires in our little fireplace coming alive at night again and mostly the welcoming of steelhead and salmon in the streams you fish. You keep talking about taking one Saturday and going up to new york for the day just me and you to fish like we did when we first started dating. I think about that trip often. We camped on Lake Ontario just me and you in that little tent. We made guacamole and sat by the camp fire drinking beer with lots of hops (you got me started on IPAs). We woke up at four in the morning before sunrise and got on the water. We trolled up and down that river - drinking coffee we brought in a thermos, waiting for the fog to burn off and waiting for a bite. All morning I kept thinking I felt a bite. I would jump excitedly thinking I had a fish on the line only to realize it was nothing. I was daydreaming when it really happened. I felt it. It took me 15 minutes to reel in and when we finally got the salmon in the boat you yelled "yes Jane!!" and we couldn't stop laughing. 

I love your love for fishing. Instead of watching TV at night you ask me to come in the basement while you build a rod or tie flies that you want to try out on your next trip. We talk about your dad taking you fishing as a little boy. You told me you couldn't sleep the night before you went to the lake because you were so excited. You told me you cried when you were seven and you caught a fish and your line broke.You told me about fishing with your uncles in West Virginia. You talk about the future and about fishing with Finn. I see your eyes light up with excitement thinking about the memories to be made with your own son. But every time you mention fishing with him you always remind yourself that he may not like fishing at all. "And that would be ok, too" You say. 

You're away on business and every morning when Finn woke up and I brought him into our bed he would look for you. He'd look on your side of the bed and when he would notice you weren't there, he would wave bye. This morning our wooden steps creaked and Finn anxiously whispered "dada" thinking it was you walking up to kiss him good morning and I had to tell him not yet- but soon.

When I was pregnant you would put your hands on my belly waiting to feel a little kick from Finn. We'd lay in bed and you would ask "was that him?! Was that? " and I'd say "no, no, not yet."  You said it was just like fishing the first time you felt him. When you really feel it- you just know.

my first salmon