Normanday #73: Don’t forget the balloons.
Here is the single entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…
I tied a shoelace to the end of a stick. I tied a fishhook to the end of the shoelace. On the fishhook, no worm. I didn’t have the heart. I rolled my big inner tube into the lake. Slipping my legs through the center and sitting on the ring’s sun-warmed edge, I kicked my legs to propel myself backwards toward Florida. My brother and I had seen fish hover beneath the flat moss-covered rock we named after a state we had never visited. The shoelace, weighted with the hook, sank into the water. My brother had laughed. The fish will see the shoelace, he said. The fish will want a worm, he said. I ignored him, until I needed his help to remove the fish from the wormless hook tied to the end of a shoelace tied to the end of a stick.