Conversations with a sibiling

A gray mist clung to the water as if knowing that to release it's grasp meant never to return .....'Doug these rocks are killing my feet, could you slow down?' It was the first day of Summer vacation, my brother and I were trudging down the river bank (barefoot was a requirement of the 'river rat' code) en route to my favorite fishing hole, carrying every piece of fishing equipment we could collect the night before. Returning to my thoughts on fog ...... the mist swirled in it's final .... 'Doug I spilled the worms and I can't take these rocks anymore'.
"Damn it Mel, pick up the worms and walk on the flat rocks"! We finally reached our destination and set up our equipment. If I close my eyes I can still remember that first insist ant tugging that signaled a fish's interest in my offering.

Later on in life my word's came back, offered by each of us as encouragement in times of life's pointy moments all we need say is, walk on the flat ones .....