Fisherman

As the eldest child in the family, I'm inclined to start this story of my childhood through my early memories with the central figure in my life during those formative years - my father. Picture this: I was just a tiny tot, maybe a mere year or two old, and we were residing in the quaint Canadian Camp near Midwest, Wyoming. In the vicinity of our house, my dad had this intriguing wooden box that we'd frequently visit. It was no ordinary box; it was brimming with earthy treasures and peculiar, glistening creatures. Dad would playfully tell me they were snakes, but in reality, they were the wriggly worms he used for fishing expeditions, a pastime we enjoyed immensely. Fishing was a recurring theme in those early memories, casting our lines into the shimmering waters, hoping for a bite, and savoring the tranquility of those moments.