Finn’s Up

Finn’s Up

No time to lose.

Sun peeked its electric eyes through metallic blinds and zapped him onto his feet. How about some breakfast? Hot chocolate? He snaps an Izzy from the mini fridge,”this is all I need”. I want to join him to absorb the river awakening from a cool, tranquil night. Alas, I am well over forty and need coffee first. I find him perched on a rock outcropping facing the rising sun. Pajama shorts and his blue Crocs. No sweater despite the chilly air waiting for the sun to speed it up. He tells me there’s no need for one, it’s OK to shiver a little. He scans the water up and down, inspecting all of the grassy beds that his bass friends call home. I wonder if some of them enjoy this hide and seek game he adores? He has gotten pretty darn good at picking them up, saying hello, then, detaching the hook sunken into their wide lips. He delicately sends them on their way back into the river’s depths. The pursuit is odd. I will admit that. But at least he is at peace here in this stillness where chattering of birds, humming of a single engine plane, a saw buzzing away a piece of wood are  a symphony we experience together.