High on Happiness

Except for a few stolid fishermen hunched in flannel and rain gear along its bank, the lake is deserted.

The fishermen ignore me as I squish along the shore between raindrops, camera in hand,  looking for photo possibilities.  If they notice me at all, they dismiss me as someone foreign to their fraternity, not knowing that I, too, am simply there for my catch of the day.

I amble slowly, walking with care through the slick mud, trying to avoid the larger puddles as my eyes scan the lake and the bordering woods, waiting for something to snag my attention.

Finally, about a quarter mile down the shore, I spot a patch of vibrant blue at the water’s edge.  Irises!  They’re wild irises!  And how their color gleams through the gray gloom of the day!

The kid inside me squeals and turns cartwheels and I hear myself laughing quietly as I train my camera’s lens on my find.  I wonder if the huddled fishermen feel like that inside when a fish finally nibbles at their bait, if that’s why they sit for long hours in the rain.

I take my photos and head back to my car, sending a silent little dart of camaraderie to each fisherman as I pass him.  We’re cut from the same cloth after all, we who follow our intentions regardless of the weather, who pursue our goals with patient perseverance, even in the rain.  We share a secret, a results-backed knowing, that between the raindrops, there comes the reward.

I’m almost to my car when I see one of the fisherman’s lines go tense and watch him come to life as he works his reel with a practiced hand.  I’m right behind him as the glistening fish clears the water and I smile in recognition as I hear him quietly laugh.

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