My grandmother used to take us fishing.
Feet dangling from the pier,
she’d bait our hooks and
take the fish off.
Most too small to keep,
she’d throw them back.
Sometimes, we’d get one we could take home.
Once in a while we’d catch a crab.
They were tenacious and hard to shake off,
despite our best work,
and Grandma was often tasked there too.
Years later I had a dream of that shore:
I’d waded in, hands in the water,
reaching for a great big fish.
The fish was beautiful,
all the colors of the rainbow and more;
it seemed to shine with gold and silver.
No matter how hard I tried,
I could not grab that fish.
Long after I awoke, that dream stayed with me.
I couldn’t catch it,
and I couldn’t let it go.
© Julianne Carlile