Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.
We live along the river in delapitated shanties. At sunrise we sleepily pull on our rubber boots and checked flannel shirts. It’s late fall and the days are chillier. It doesn’t mean we can’t fish, but the joy of a temperate summer is a distant memory. Gone are the laughter filled nights of plentiful fish, drinking rice wine until midnight.
Harsh temperatures have arrived. Our mornings are early so we can chase the waning light. Evening arrives and the catch is not terrible but not plentiful. The fish at this time of year are wiggly and stronger.
I shiver in the morning light, winter’s stinging winds drawing near. Soon the river will be coated with ice. Then, all we can do is drill a hole and hope for something to bite — anything.
Mom kept telling Autumn to stop playing in the water which had puddled into massive shallow lakes at school.”No Autumn, you’ll get your clothes and shoes all wet and you’ll come home and say how your feet are cold because you refuse to wear your rubber boots,”
Autumn gave her Mom a Cheshire grin, “It’s okay Mom, I brought extra clothes and shoes.” But Mom only frowned and forbid Autumn to jump in the puddles.
As with many children, forbidding them not to do something, ensures they will do that something. So when Autumn and her friends arrived at school and saw the giant puddles which rose to the middle of their calves, they splashed in the puddles all day.
Autumn came home on the school bus and her mother gasped. Her daughter was soaked straight through. Even her second set of clothing and shoes were wet. She was going to yell at Autumn but seeing the exhilarated smile on Autumn’s face, decided to forgo the chastisement today. After all, the puddles would be around for a while.