Missed Connections

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Can you see the man fishing? He passed us on our hike at Many Glacier last weekend when we stopped to pick thimbleberries on the trail. I paid attention to him because he reminded me of a man I used to work with. We nodded, and he was gone.

Just before Red Rock Falls, there he was--wading in knee-deep water and casting into the afternoon sun. He likely focused on the water, the rippling surface, the Zen of fishing. I have no idea what he caught, if anything other than my attention. The motion of his fly rod, floppy cap, his resemblance to an old friend, all anchored the majestic scenery.

He had no objective view of himself in the solitary act of fishing.

He might not care, but I wish I knew his name. I'd send him this memento, my memory.

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