08/09/2026
The ones where he doesn’t even look at me.
The ones that hold more than what he looked like at fourteen, they hold a little piece of who he is.
Because someday this version of him will have grown into the next one, and I’ll still have this.
A fishing pole. The lake. And my boy, exactly as he is in this moment and season. 🩵
Happy 14th to this fisherman of mine. 🎣🩵