#733: A Memory Poem on April 2, 2026

Once, as a grade schooler, 
my father and my uncle took 
me out on a boat into the ocean
for deep sea fishing. Worried
that I might get sick, my father
gave me a Dramamine. 
I remember crawling into the
boat’s cabin and sleeping
through the entire fishing trip. 
When I woke, long after the 
boat had come back to dock, 
I remember feeling peeved
that I missed the entire 
experience. It turns out, that
I did not become a fisherman.
Maybe I knew, even then, 
that waiting for a bite, on 
the shore, in water, thigh deep
wearing waders, or thrillingly
riding the ocean waves in a boat,
was not my calling. But decades
later, if you asked me about it, 
I could tell you a story.