I remember

I remember my dad’s little boat. It was nothing more than a rowboat, really, but he had a small engine on it and could fish from it for hours. In a night expedition in search of catfish, which grew to 20 or 30 pounds in our local lake, we sat in the darkness on the quiet lake. Our gas lantern attracted every bug within miles and I was more interested in avoiding the bugs than in catching a massive catfish. Dad . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “I remember.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “I remember”

  1. I remember flinging myself into his arms as he strode up the gravel road. How I wrapped my arms around his neck and how he lifts me off the ground squeezing the air out of my chest. I recall feeling his love pour into my heart and my love pour into his. There was no judgments, no expectation, just the simple softness of a comfortable reunion. We separate and I gaze into his creased wise face, his eyes sparkle bright with joy, the joy brought on by a simple visit. Oh how I miss you my gramps.

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