Revive - A Quarterly Fly Fishing Journal - Page 64

Eventually, we moved North to Idaho, land of rainbow trout, cutthroat trout, steelhead and salmon. With the advent of Robert’s smokejumping career, we began to divide our life between Idaho and Washington -- states made of similar fishes, and very fine fishes, at that.

It occurs to me that my life could be measured in fish. I can remember fish I have caught in specific places, the weather of the day, the mood of the water, what I was wearing. We can hike a river together and Robert will point out the eddies and deep bends he has taken fish from.

I wonder sometimes if Robert loves to see a trout in my hand, the way I love to see a trout in his.

Trout. They’ve been a steadfast part of our life, a reason for travel and adventure, a cherry on top of the wild desserts of life. I think they’ve made me a better woman and Robert a better man. Maybe it’s a slippery, rainbow flanked trout between us that ties and binds us like a golden band on a ring finger -- a trout that makes us worthy of each other, worthy of the wild world we live in, worthy of the good fights we take up on a daily basis. They are noble things, trout, a worthy fish.