adventures of a fishing vest

my dad decided to give fly fishing a try.. my husband lent him some waders and he caught a few bass..when he returned home (back to AZ) he apparently purchased a fly fishing vest..i didn't know about it until i was home with him for his last few months of life... some nights i would get into his closet and smell his shirts... when he was sick he didn't quite smell like himself.. and i longed for the dust mixed with stetson and leather smell that seemed to cling to him all the time... while in his closet one night while everyone slept i found the vest.. it was in the very back and the tags were still on it... i don't know when he bought it or why he never used it.. but there it hung...

when he passed i took a few things home with me... i have his rusty spurs, the belt buckle he would have been burred with..and the vest...

it hung in my closet for this year and some months until my husband and i decided to take this impromptu fishing trip... i packed sandwich fixings, threw an extra pair of underwear and a toothbrush in a bag..then at the last moment packed the vest.. when i took the tags off i was overcome with the sense that my dad had touched them... they were just price tags.. but no one else had touched them.. just him.. and me... i put the tags into a little box and we were off...

we got there and i set up camp, alone, in under 30 mins.. annoyed with mosquitoes and a lazy bones hubby... but proud too... i set off to look for dry wood and find the river..

when we decided to hike out to the river and do some fishing i loaded up the vest... i don't fly fish so the vest held my eye drops, chapstick, bug spray, dean koontz book and inhaler.. i deemed it my "swiss army vest"... no fish were caught.. we had ramen noodles for dinner

all went well until the second day when we got up and made coffee and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches... i missed my dad's camp breakfasts.. eggs, potatoes, sausage, tortillas (he or my mom would make that for at least one morning)... we fished and fished.. and still nothing.. but it was too quiet... and even with the hubs right next to me i felt.. alone... we target shot the pistol.. and i did well.. i called my mom to check in.. but realized after i hung up that i really wanted to talk to my dad.. i was just missing him so much..

i love to be out in nature.. i feel closer to him there.. but this trip seemed to put him farther away... doing the things he loved.. without him.. with so many reminders around us (the vest, the camp chair, the coffee percolator, the fillet knife, and countless other supplies he'd given us though the years) it just seemed wrong to do it without him...

on our fishless way home i thought about the bugs and the many mosquito bites i would be scratching after a shower washed the grime away, i thought of the way i took down camp in under 20 mins!.. and i realized this trip was without complaint (a miracle in and of itself.. because i am the queen of whine).. i was sore and achy.. tired and dirty.. and as much as i missed my papa...i was also proud of myself.. and i know he would have been too