Passion of the Fish‏

I received this text this morning:

Remembering when you were 4 years old.  I took you fishing; stick, string and no bait.  You were certain you would catch a fish.  You didn't want to leave the good day.

Mom sent this to me.

To understand why this text really affected me today, you would have to understand the relationship I have with her or lack thereof...

Mom is not the sentimental type.  Mom contacts me a few times a month; always on pay day.  Our relationship is more of the bank teller/customer variety.

Today, I felt like a son.  For the first time in years.

Maybe, mom has been bitten by the mortality bug.  Her health is getting worse.  Her bills are getting higher.  Her friends can be counted on one friend.  The love of her life is her dog and the slot machines.

Maybe, mom took a stroll down memory lane because she is simply getting tired of this journey called life.  It's written on her face.  Her eyes are dull.  Her smile is about as real as a painted on smile on a clown.

She's tired.  Her passion for life is merely a droplet of water that evaporates more and more each day.

I am her son.  I can read her like a book.  Despite our lack of positive communication, I know what she is thinking and feeling at all times.

When you have a bond with someone, be it blood or be it the love of your life, you always know when the other person is breaking or overflowing with joy.  Their peaks and their valleys become yours.

I look at mom and often wonder, "What were her passions in life?"

As a kid, all I remember is her being focused on paying bills.  That's it.  She did not entertain thoughts of remarrying.  She did not have a career in mind.  She did not have a particular hobby. 

Mom simply wanted to make sure I had a roof over my head, food on the table and a good education.

I suppose her passion was me.

When I was 4 years old, my passion was catching a fish... catching a fish without bait.  In my simple underdeveloped mind, I believed throwing a line and hook into the water was enough to lure a fish.

"No bait?  No problem."  That was how my mind worked.

I was also the same kind whom, on occasion, would put bread on the end of the hook as bait.  The bread would float off and, once again, I'd simply fish without bait.

I was stubborn and passionate about proving the experts wrong.  Fish like hooks, not the bait attached to them.... that was my theory.

I never caught a fish without bait but according to my mom in her text message, I considered the effort; the futile effort, a good day.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I have two passions in life.  I still define a good day by the effort I put into these two passions.

Futility doesn't play a role in the two things I am passionate about.

Mom has lost her passion for life.

What she doesn't realize is that she hasn't lost me.

Not today.