Thoughts on Getting New Chest Waders

With the anticipation of beautiful early morning fog mist for fishing, I try on my new chest waders with the red suspenders and am reminded of a little girl twirling her fancy dress in front of the full length mirror on her wall. I have not been fishing for more than ten years, but this Monday I will be there to hear the bell ring as trout season sets off like a fire in a burning forest. Everyone will clamor to the river to set their boots in a spot where they hope to catch a tagged fish which might announce a prize: dollars, a new rod, maybe a tackle box. Who knows!!! Maybe I will catch a poem. A huge boat might blow by and throw out candy. It's a crap shoot, really. Out there in waders, in water, in wonder, with nature so close you can breathe her like a cloud well maybe it will be like heaven. And speaking of heaven, maybe my Dad will watch from afar. Or he might perch on my shoulder, a small and friendly little ghost to whisper tips in my ear about how to catch my limit. I put the waders back in their new box, fix the kettle for coffee, and wait.