I don’t fish nearly as much as I did five years ago.
On Father’s Day, 2011, my wife gave me a card revealing that she was pregnant with our first child. Obviously, what followed has changed my life significantly. That little boy, the other one that followed, and the baby (gender unknown to us at the moment) on the way have altered both the day-to-day and the big picture.
More diapers, more being around for 7:00pm bedtimes, and less fly fishing.
But I wouldn’t change it for the world. If it came down to it, fishing would be the thing I’d change. It has been the thing I’ve changed. I’ve never looked at one of my boys and remorsefully thought, “this is why I’m not on the river right now.”
While there are quick fly fishing outings and intermittent weekend trips, I haven’t been out as much as I did before fatherhood. And as cliché as it sounds, the times when I’m out on my own I can’t help but think about what it will be like when they are old enough to join me. Only a few years, months maybe, until the oldest can wade in gentler waters and hop on the boulders of mountain streams. And, as any parent knows, the next child in line will be propelled by the desire to keep up with his older brother.