By A.J. Zyszkowski, 2014
June brings the longest brightest days that never end.
The fishy smell of the cleaning table fills the air as you
approach the river’s edge. The eagle sits in the tree across the
river and watches as a salmon carcass floats by from a
fishing camp up river, then the eagle dives down to retrieve it
from the swift water.
My grandpa rigs up my fishing rod, and I toss the fly into the
cold turquoise water. I wait. The line tightens, and jolts me
to attention. I jerk back and it feels like the rod will break in
half. I call out “fish on” and Gramps comes running with a
My grandma has all the makings for s’mores around the
campfire that night. The smell of the campfire mixes with the
smell of the salmon smoking. We all talk about the day and
plan our next adventure; it’s hard to know when to go to bed
because it is still light.