Friday, November 05, 2010





A week after giving birth or really being sliced open in a kind of sci fi way (c-section)... zander obliged me for a walk down his parent's street. There and back again, he urged me to venture a little further. We rounded the corner on Lafayette and strolled along the mini canal. He began to reminisce about catching crawdads this time of year with his friends. The air, the light, the sounds, in unison called him back to his childhood.

His eyes suddenly getting big he asked, "would you want to fish for crawdads?!"
Wearily, I replied, "right now?! but what about the baby? he needs to eat soon."
"Nah, he's fine, lets do this!"

Well, if he was going to play that card, I haughtily replied, that as a little girl I didn't use a line and hot dog (as z suggested) but my BARE HANDS! Gasp! Yes, i was a tom boy.

Zander was too excited to bother with my curt response as we decidedly walked back to pillage his parent's place for a hot dog and fishing line.

It was the perfect evening. Ender, our beloved, was napping with grandma, and we escaped.
Barely containing himself, he ordered me to pinch a piece of dog off and he tied it to the line. Seeing that he was taking his craft very seriously left me no room to laugh at him. I found myself getting caught up in his happiness and I listened to the master fisherman. He casted the line in at a shadowy, squirmy figure lurking just below the surface of the silt. The hot dog scared the critter away. He re casted. Then from down stream, an army of crawdads appeared (picture Pirates of the Caribbean when the skeletal pirates are marching under the ocean and the moon light spills onto their decrepit bodies. Imagine, the heart thumping music as they advance with evil stealth toward their fleshy prey). Yes, I tell you the truth, crawdads are just like that!

Zander and I squealed with delight and a little bit of the creeps. The hoard was soon upon the hot dog. Their bodies roiled and fought each other. With a few tries, zander coached me in the art of yanking one up on land. The fishy glutton still ate ferociously as it spun on the line in mid air. Disgusting! I found myself, giggling. Yes, giggling, giggling like a very non tom boy.
That evening i was huckelberry's little girl friend. And I didn't mind.

Besides, if I'm honest with myself. I only pretended to catch crawdads with my bare hands to impress my ultra tomboy best friend, danielle. I actually, just splashed the water really hard as my fingers went for them, hoping that they would be scared off before I was forced to pinch the back of their necks.

Its a very delicate illusion being a tom boy.

1 comment:

my name is Mel said...

This made me cry.
So well written and a moment so beautifully captured.
I love it.
and so glad for the huckleberry you get to share your life with.

love you.