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Trout Whisperer - A lot of wait, in waiting

I have in my possession, four brand new muskrat two blade folding knives. Brand new in the box. I’m waiting, gramma’s making sure I’m waiting. I got one more year, to wait.

Gramma says when the boys each turn six, I can give them a knife, not a day before. And when I do, I’ll hand them a piece of cedar, soft, smells good, floats better than balsa to me, and grows right out back. Luckily I don’t have any balsa trees. Besides, be about three inches long, one inch thick blocks and we will whittle a minnow, a he and me day, maybe it’s raining, might have to be,  the boys were all born in the summer, another summer thing to look forward to but when we get done, we will go find a puddle and float them.

When our  minnows fall over on their side like mine did with my grampa, I won’t spoil the surprise. I’ll wait for each boy to go, “Grampa, our minnows don’t look right.” Well then I’ll take the lad by the hand to the shop and will screw a tiny silver tipped screw in the bottom, float them again, watch the little boy smile, pleased at it swimming right.

I won’t let their moms be around, they’ll worry about cuts, band-aids, I’ll risk it though, because my grandfather did for me. Maybe a few years later after waiting some more, I’ll give each one a marble, leather lace wrapped, big tang, good skinning blade, less likely do any injury, but like many things, that’ll just have to wait.

- The Trout Whisperer

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