Trout Whisperer - Pilots…

In a week or less he won’t be here, ever again, from us, to my memories. It’s life, mine more, his, finds the time of no more, but I can’t think of that now. I want to be with him then, in today, maybe it’s our last but dang it, I want him happy in the thoughts of us not the day to soon to come.
So, we’re conversing, reminiscing, a paddle stroke at a tongues time, that big walleye, you almost missed it with the net, we laugh. The afternoon’s sunlight is glancing past the window. The nurse comes in, “How are you doing,” erupts from her, “I just have to check your vitals.” Quick, she’s prompt, on spot, timely, efficient.
Without missing a beat, that in days will not be, he says “Could you bring my dock in?” I say you got it buddy. He doesn’t say thanks, he just nods. Says, “I wish I could do it once more.” It hurts to hear that.
I reply, “Mister you put that dock in and out so many times I’d think you’d be worn out from it now.” He says, “Well, maybe I am.”
I don’t want this part of us in my head, so I rewind the memories. You remember that cow moose? The one with the twin calves? You saw it first, and I couldn’t find it at all, so you turned the canoe from the bow, and wow, there was that mommy moose cow. Great paddling man.
He shifts in bed, yeah, you never could find an earth in a universe, we both laugh. He knows what a crappy pilot I was compared to him, and I mean, I completely mean, we are choking on hysterical laughter, eyes watering, noses running, the nurse rushes in, “Are you okay, the monitors went crazy?”
He says, “I’ve never felt better.”
~ The trout whisperer