Close Shave (short story)

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Close Shave

 

My muse was loaded and threw one at me while shaving today. I never know. I think she thinks she owes me one……… or maybe wants one up.

I needed it……. the shave. It’s 2pm and I should sit and relax for a bit, but I notice my ears were getting’ woolly and I don’t need my grand girls telling me I have hair in my ears again.

I was given this new multi-bladed hybrid razor for Christmas. It’s the best razor I’ve ever had I believe.

Why, I could take my truck on a cross country drive, and with some water and face butter, be clean when I got there.

There?

Ya, there!

There by the bridge at the south end of the lake. You know the one that has the dead tree that hangs out over the water off the point where the kingfisher has perched and hunted for years.

He was there 35 years ago and he was still there year before last.

You know.

I hollered across to the other side, “what’s happening?”

Whomever it was said, perch are bitten strange, but they’re bitten.

I bought a license when I came into Chamberlain earlier.  Just in case I wanted to stand on that concrete block and fish for the fish De jour.

I didn’t use it so my license is fresh and I am excited.   It’s one of my favorite spots, since I was old enough to drive. I could disappear there for a whole day, come home after dark and nobody even knew I was gone.

So, one pole, a nice light one with 6lb. Spin cast with the rod about six and a half feet long, a little limber.

I had a little shovel so I stuck it in the mud from the recent rain and found exactly the wiggly I needed. There were hoppers everywhere but I thought I try a thin worm first.

I rigged with a split shot and tied the line straight to the hook. “Biting strange” meant touch, feely.

I looked down at the water and saw that it was the time of the year when the water was running out enough to drift a worm over the top of the weeds that hadn’t reached within a foot of the surface yet, and were swaying with the surge. And you can see dark spots where you’d like that split shot to take it down until it disappeared.

It descends until a perch spots it and interrupts the drift of the line. Then a light pull up with the index finger….. No shoulder for this. Touchy, feely….. And if you didn’t get him, let it go and voila!!!! You made him mad and got him.

So, I’m standing there shaving in Tucson, watching myself fish at the bridge…..

…and I’m taken to another thought.

Gees I wish my kids were here to have this fun. Jaime loves to fish, Jesse, Brian and Scott. Kathy needs to be sitting there to watch what was happening.

All the while this is going on…. I’m shaving, Kathy’s watching the kids have a blast and get to live in my memory with me for a bit.

And my old mind moves back to a tricky spot to shave, now turn on the vibration for it’s final cut, rinse and dry. My CPAP is going to stick a little better tonight! LOL

I like this to happen, but we moved far away, my kids have grown and are dealing with middle adult life, money, sick kids, corporate disconnect, groceries and all of the stuff.

I don’t live in their back pockets. They don’t need my wild imagination and enthusiasm when their butts are draggin’ and they have their own little circle of timing and plans.

So kids, I just took you away to my land of dreams for the afternoon.

It was a carefree afternoon of fishing with honkers sounding and flying near.

I hope I was able to help, …………………

while I got a nice clean shave.

Your Dad

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About Ronald D. Drobeck

I've read, learned, been discriminated against, patronized, lied to, laughed at, laughed with, and ignored. I'm not a minority, not tall, not good looking, not skinny, not hairy, and can see 10 miles, but not two feet. I've been a paperboy, college student, licensed nursing home administrator, professional musician (country swing drummer), duck and goose hunter, fisherman, conservationist, Eagle scout, camp counselor, canoeing instructor, lifeguard, comedian, restaurant owner, licensed exterminator, insurance agent, warehouse manager, carpenter, conservative, father of 4, baseball coach, husband, worrier, writer, embryo gardener, photographer, and nice guy. now, old.

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