In a Winter's Room

In an 8-by-4-foot room I sat on a slab of thundering ice alongside my father. He was giddy with anticipation of the "big catch." We crouched upon 5-gallon plastic buckets. Our eyes fixed to steady, Day-glo bobbers. I listened to the songs of winter outside the door as I await the calling beneath a dark-as-night hole. Dreams of scaled monsters captured my every thought for long, lingering moments. The subzero drafts glazed my ears like fire against my frozen skin. I fumbled to bring my now slush-like soda to deserving lips. My thoughts pondered the origin of "that smell." I hoped it hadn't wandered from my well-worn boots. Suddenly the world stopped with chills of familiarity…and just as quickly…as if I had received dustings of stars from the heavens above…I realized, I've crossed this moment of time before. As I looked to my father, I discovered his missing bobber. I exclaimed holy-hell cries of hyphenated expletives. My father struggled with the line, and I feared he may have caught that unknown monster. Just as quick as the tick of any clock…our only hope came to a crashing halt. A collide of sound so enormous but simultaneously soft-just a faint "snip"-and my mind could do nothing but wander down those thoughts and mysteries of what on earth lurked down under.