Tell My Tarot
Tell My Tarot
For a split second, the old anger flickered. The territorial, jealous, married-man instinct.
So I took them. All seventeen rods. The fly rods for the river we never fished. The deep-sea rigs for the Florida trip we cancelled three times. The ultralight for the creek behind her mother's house—the creek where she kissed me once, just because a bluegill bit.
I texted back: "Nice fish. Tight lines."
Every fisherman knows that packing for a trip is a ritual. You check the line for frays, grease the reels, and organize the tackle box. But when you are newly single, packing feels different. Divorced Angler Memories of a Big Catch -2024- ...
I remembered how, five years ago, my ex-wife used to sit in that passenger seat with a sunhat and a book. She never fished. She just liked being on the water. She called fishing "aggressive waiting." She never understood why I needed to pull a creature out of the dark to feel whole.
This is the part where the metaphor hooks you.
On the third cast, it happened.
It had given me a fight I desperately needed. It forced me to be present, to focus on the immediate moment, and to forget about my divorce, my loneliness, and my anxiety.
Much like the process of rebuilding after a divorce, landing a "monster" requires patience, resilience, and the ability to handle tension without breaking the line.
Waiting for the next cast.
Not a nibble. A tick. The way a thief touches a door handle to see if it's unlocked.
If you find yourself holding a rod and staring at the horizon this year, remember: the water doesn't judge, and the next big strike is always just one cast away. Your best memories aren't just behind you in the faded photos of a previous life—they are waiting in the deep water of your future.
