As the line raced from his fishing reel, the boy grabbed on to his pole with both hands and held on. Far out in the glassy smooth water, a fish erupted into the bright sunlight, breaking the quiet with a giant splash of rainbows as it fell back into the river.
The reel stopped whirring and the boy quickly wound line in. Then, the line zipped away once more. The fish launched itself into the blue sky and danced across the shattered water on its tail. The boy was so awed by this acrobatic display, he nearly let go of his pole, but when the line stopped moving, he wound in once more only to have the reel scream as the fish took another run, pulling line after it.
And so it went, back and forth, the boy lost track of time until he realized that the fish was tiring and slowly it was getting closer and closer, until, with a final backward thrust of his pole, the boy landed the fish on the sand in front of him.
Breathless, the boy fell to his knees and stared in amazement. The fish was half as big as he was and its dazzling gold scales nearly blinded him.
The boy froze, where did that voice come from?
The boy leaned down closer to the fish’s gasping mouth.
Henry’s eyes snapped open.
“Henry, get in here, your dinner’s getting cold.”
He looked down at his pole lying in the grass beside him and the line running limp out into the still water. He stood, picked up his pole and began reeling line in.
The boy smiled, “Coming mama, just one more cast.”
Moral: If you seek to befriend an optimist, find a fisherman.
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