Our Summer Day

My mates at the pub laughed when I told them. “With your daughters, Nigel? Are you mad?”

“Yep, mad.” My mug thumped on the bar.

The girls had been agreeably reluctant. Mum helped push them out the door. “Get along.”

I showed them how to rig a line. Hooking a worm created slack jaws, huge eyes. My princesses, a day on the dock together.

The fish weren’t worth fishing. But there were keepers that were caught that day.

As I carried her, my youngest arched back. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you so much. When I grow up, I’m marrying you.”


Picture is copyright by Peter Castleton.

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