Every year my parents took us to the same lake resort. It was beautiful of course but what I really loved was the fishing. The five hour trip in the cramped back seat with all the extra luggage was torture. At least every hour, I would look out the back window to see our old blue bass fishing boat and dream about catching the big one. Being fourteen already, my dad even let me drive the boat, but not as fast as I would have liked.

Suddenly, we came to a stand still on 35 north towards the Twin Cities. Cars, trucks and just as many boats were having their vacation delayed.

"What's going on, Dad?" I asked, sitting forward, so I could see better.

"Probably an accident, son. Nobody knows how to drive anymore."

Sitting back down, I felt defeated. Soon, enough traffic started moving again. Laying my head back, dreams of the lake filled my head.

"Wake up, we're here!" my Mother chimed.

My head bobbed up at the sound of my mother's contagious excitement and that was all I needed to hear before I jumped out of our old red boat of a car and ran into the cabin. I plopped onto the old familiar green and blue ratty plaid couch, relishing that I was in my personal heaven.

I heard the ancient wooden screen door squeak open and slam shut. Dad was carrying the luggage while mom carried the radio player.

"Get your butt off that couch and help!" my Father yelled.

I slid off the couch and began carrying things in as fast as I could. I knew the sooner everything was unloaded, the sooner we could go fishing.

"Can we go fishing now?" I asked, feeling like it was owed to me since I helped.

"Let me rest for a few hours, okay?"

I hung my head as I pushed the screen door and headed outdoors. There was nothing to do in the cabin, no TV, no video games, I was too young to enjoy complete quietness.

I walked around the resort. The sand between the cabins crunched under my feet as I heard the branches in the trees swaying in the mild wind. It was a great day for fishing but my dad always said that rainy mornings were good for it too. The air got cooler as I approached the water. As soon as the lake was in my sight, I ached to get into our boat, the water was its usual dark bluish green with no white caps in sight. All of a sudden, I heard splashing. Inside the safe area were two girls, one older, that looked about my age and one younger. She had the prettiest blond hair I had ever seen. I wondered if she was afraid to get it wet.

The girl looked up at me, I turned completely around and ran back to the cabin.

"What's wrong with you? Your face is as red as a beet!" My mother proclaimed.

"Nothing, I'm just, hot." I said, beyond embarrassed.

"Well, it's not that warm." She said, feeling my forehead with her cheek.

I ran into my room and slammed the door.

My door creaked open, I could see my dad with his favorite dirty baseball cap, the one my mother hated most.

"Are you ready to go catch some supper?"

Forgetting my embarrassment, I followed my dad outdoors, down the hill and the maze of docks to get to our boat.

"Can we go in the weeds, Dad?"

"Sure we can, that's where the monsters hide!"

My dad carefully backed out so he didn't have to rough up the boat and headed to the weeds. Slowly, with his trolling motor he found the perfect spot. In the distance you could hear a loon cry, and, if you were weren't focused on your fishing, you could see eagles flying overhead.

Out of my own grey tackle box, I retrieved my lucky white and yellow fishing lure. I hooked it on perfectly and cast my pole into the tall reeds. We cast and reeled and cast and reeled, nothing.

"How 'bout one more time, for good measure?" my Dad said, ever hopeful.

I cast one more time, this time, not quite so far away. I reeled in slowly, I felt something! The day wasn't going to be for nothing! I brought it in exactly as my dad had taught me. I gave one more good jerk to get it out of the water when all of sudden, my face was covered with green stringy slime.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled, ready to break my pole in half and never go fishing again!

My dad laughed and laughed while I resisted the temptation to break my pole.

"Let's go in, son, or we'll be late to the campfire. You don't want to miss out on roasting marshmallows, do you?"

"I guess not." I said, as my Dad started up the motor.