Hooked

My earliest memory was of being caught at the end of a fishing line. I was standing behind my brother on a fishing pier at the Virginia coast when he cast his line behind him, not realizing I was standing there. I was three years old then, and our family had begun what would become our summertime ritual of traveling east for fishing, crabbing and soaking in the beach sun. For my brother, the redhead of the family, this usually meant getting burned to a lobster red. Despite the sunscreen, hats and white, long-sleeved shirts, the ultraviolet waves reflected brightly around, infiltrating on the breeze. Continue reading “Hooked”