I miss fishing. Going out in a boat in early morning, getting bait ready, eating fresh fruit for breakfast in silence while lines sit in the water. Catching, releasing or keeping, the excitement and laughter. Jumping into the ocean as the day gets hotter and then napping below deck to the gentle rocking and the sound of lapping waves. Sun warming your skin as you wake and you can feel the clean salt fall off of you. The traction of the deck under bare feet. The birds welcome you back at the dock. The sound of the ropes tightening. Hosing off the boat. Cleaning the fish. The smell of coconut, blood, and scales. Lemon, garlic, butter, pasta, white wine and even more laughter as dinner is consumed with people with whom you are safe, as the sun sets. The hugs goodbye, the quick shower to leave your skin soft from the buffing wind and salt and sand. Skin still warm from the sun even as the temperature drops. Falling blessedly, happily, into an uncomplicated sleep. There are times when I miss my Florida childhood. This is one of them. Good morning.