Trey was six, very unsteady with his paddling, the canoe out of control in the wind, his older brother, Jim, shouting at him. It was his first year at the lake staying in the small cabin where his dad had vacationed since he was a kid. It had been a little fishing get away for his dad and one of his friends. Two years ago Jim had made his first visit. This year it was his turn.
His brother’s nine year old voice yelling.
Trey was nine, reeling in a huge bass. The bass fought like the Dickens, but Trey had three years of experience now and could handle it. tell Dad, though. Even though he had caught hundreds of fish, but his dad still had to talk him through it, cheering him on.
His dad’s voice, full of care, instructing him on catching fish and living life.
Trey was eleven, climbing a small cliff that had the best view of the lake. It was his favorite spot in the world. This was the second year Mom had made the journey, it no longer being a “boys night out” fishing trip, but s full-fledged family vacation.
His mother’s voice, telling him the cliff was dangerous was thrown into the mix.
Trey was thirteen hidden in the deep woods, coughing on a stolen cigarette. Jim punched his arm, perhaps a little too hard.Continue reading