What’s Not To Love [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Two years ago on crisp Colorado autumn day, Kerri and I walked through the pines, scrambled through some scrub, and stood on the rocks at the water’s edge. It was my dad’s favorite fishing spot. It was the day after his funeral. We lit a candle. We sat in silence. We reminisced. We said goodbye.

Eight years earlier, on the occasion of my dad’s 80th birthday, I brought Kerri to meet my family. My dad took us fishing. One of my favorite photos of him is from that day. One of my favorite photos of Kerri is from that day. From a distance, pole in hand, she reels in the line. Like him, she was a natural. Both photos exude a quiet peacefulness.

Recently we were up north with the gang. Fall was in full splendor. Kerri and I took a walk though we didn’t go far. There were too many amazing photo ops to pass by. We’d walk a few feet, she’d gasp and point her camera.

As she aimed her camera through the trees to the lake, I was suddenly transported back to both days at the lake in Colorado. The day fishing and the day of the candle. I thought I’d be awash in sadness but it was surprisingly the opposite. To my right, my father – doing what he most loves to do; to my left – Kerri weaving into the fabric of my family. And, in the center, we light a candle of remembrance and thanksgiving.

What’s not to love in the vast scope of these three days, memories born on the shores of a lake?

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read Kerri’s blogpost about Autumn

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Enjoy The Mountain Calm [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

This one is for my dad. Actually, this one is from my dad. He was in his happy place when he had a line in the water. Catching a fish was not nearly as important as the peace and quiet he experienced while fishing. He had a special spot on the lake; the door to his sanctuary was a fishing pole.

One of my favorite memories is of the day that Columbus taught Kerri to fish. I sat on a rock jutting into the water and watched two of my favorite people enjoy the mountain calm. Late summer breezes fluttered the aspen leaves. The ziiiing of the cast. The plop of the bubble hitting the water. Click. A slow reel in. Repeat. No place better to be. Being there – and nowhere else. What could possibly be better than that?

read kerri’s thoughts on this saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

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