Do you ever start thinking about something, then it leads you to thinking about something else, which leads you to thinking about something else, which leads you...well, you get the idea.

Tonight, as I was driving home, I randomly started thinking about knots. Why was I thinking about knots? I have no idea. It was just a bizarre, random thought that popped into my head. I started thinking that other than your usual granny "knot," I really only know how to tie one other knot. That is the knot you use to tie a hook to a fishing line. Then, I started wondering how many girls actually know how to properly tie a hook to a fishing line, and started thinking about how my kids have never been fishing. Now, I realize, a lot of people have probably never been fishing, but if you grew up like I did, not knowing how to fish is VERY strange. You see, my dad was an outdoorsman. He loved camping, hiking, hunting, fishing, etc. We used to camp...a lot. It was a running joke in my family that all you needed was a river and you had the perfect camping spot. At least, that was my dad's idea. Thankfully, Mom eventually convinced him that while she loved that he loved camping so much, she really needed showers and a toilet. Yes, we used to do that kind of camping. Pull over on the side of the road, in the middle of the forest, pop up a tent, pull out the fishing poles, and we were camping. No toilets for miles.

So, anyways...I was thinking about this knot that I knew how to tie, and remembered the evening my dad taught me how to tie a hook to a fishing pole. Up until then, he had always gotten my pole ready. All I had to do was stick the bait on, cast it, and reel in the fish. However, the next day, I was going on a field trip. We were told that if we wanted to, we could fish off of the pier at the place we were going on the field trip. I wanted to catch a shark. I thought that would be beyond cool. Up until then, I had really only fished in lakes and rivers. Fishing in the ocean off of a pier...way cool. So, my dad pulled out my fishing pole that night, taught me how to put the pole together, put the reel on, string it up, hook on the weights, attach the hook, and then how to take it all apart again. The next day, I was ready to go...the only kid that brought a fishing pole. I didn't care. I was going to catch a shark and come home to tell my dad how cool it was and how I did it all by myself. I didn't catch a shark that day. I didn't catch anything. I DID, however, see someone else catch a small shark and got to help him take it off of his hook, which was pretty darn cool.

All this thought of that day, made me start thinking about the day my dad took me to buy my first fishing pole. It was my birthday. I was SO stinking excited. I was getting MY OWN PERSONAL FISHING POLE!!!!! It was something I had wanted for a long time. It was something none of my siblings had. It was something that was special...that Dad and I were going to go out together and pick out and buy for me. So stinking cool. It's strange, how even now, the memory of that night is as clear as though it had happened just yesterday. He took me to Tri City Sporting Goods and we looked at poles. We took them down, we thrashed them about, seeing if they were flexible enough, he showed me how to grab the top and bottom and make sure it could bend because if if didn't bend well, it could snap at the weight of a fish (yeah, because I was going to be catching fish big enough to snap a pole! LOL) We finally found it...the perfect pole. It was sleek. It was black. It was going to be mine...all mine. We found the perfect reel. It matched the pole. It was awesome. We took the reel to the counter to get fishing line put on it. The man asked my dad what pound test he wanted for my pole. Dad asked me what the biggest fish I thought I was going to catch with that pole was. I told him I had no idea and asked him what he thought. He told me I probably wouldn't find a fish bigger than 8 pounds where I'd be fishing with that pole. So, Dad asked for a 15 pound test. "Why?" I asked, figuring if I wasn't going to catch a fish larger than 8 pounds, I only needed an 8 pound test line. Dad laughed and explained that he has seen me fish and I tend to get the hook caught on the tulies more often than I catch a fish and he didn't want me losing my lures in the tulies, so he was going to get me a heavier line so the line wouldn't break when I tried to get free of them. So, the man at the counter filled my reel with 15 pound test, Dad paid for everything, and we went home. That was honestly one of the happiest days of my life. Growing up with a lot of siblings, there weren't that many times that we were able to go out with just my mom or dad and no other kids along. This was a special night. It was Dad and me doing something together that we both enjoyed. It was perfect.

Of course, all of this led to me thinking about my dad. I have so many wonderful memories with him. Oddly (or maybe not so oddly) enough, the majority of them involve fishing. lol I miss him. I miss him a lot. The grief hits me at the oddest times...like when I'm driving down the road, thinking about knots.