I got to thinking about our "discussion" last night and your apology this morning, an apology that was unnecessary. The whole episode impressed upon me the realization that I have been negligent, remiss in making the effort to reveal my feelings, things that would perhaps help you to understand. I'm sorry too, sorry that it has taken me this long to figure it out myself. Thank you for rocking me awake.

I know you have already reached your conclusions as you so ably stated, but I wanted to attempt this explanation now that the dust has settled. It is not "just fishing". There's more... So, I've decided that I owe you more than the usual little yellow 'sticky' telling you what river I'm on and what exit I took, where to send the cavalry if I'm not home by 9:30 or 10:00.

For as long as we have been together, you have known that I have a deep, visceral connection with nature. It has manifest itself in my pursuits during the past, many of those activities we've shared with mutual joy and good times. You need only to look through my library for evidence, I could be easily convicted of having a passion for the book of creation, especially mountains and rivers and everything connected to them.

Fly-fishing is a conduit to that love. It is a remarkable, intricate, and complicated contest, a puzzle that has its forms and features contained in the mind of God. I only seek that occasional moment when a piece slides into place, an opportunity to stand partially immersed, my heart racing, and realize, if even for an instant, that I have been granted understanding, the beautiful proof held in my hands. To release that living bit of perfection extends the moment, not measured in time, but in the infinite memory. It is a means to access knowledge that I will never fully possess. It is about seeking, it is a prayer of activity.

My entreaties are nearly always answered. The water speaks in voices too beautiful, sonorous chants that elevate the spirit, preparing my mind for the message, whatever it may be. I usually return with clarity of thought, as if my thinking has been aligned and ordered, channeled between the irrefutable confines of logic and truth, flowing freely again, cleared of the mundane debris that accumulates to the point of overwhelming both of us.

I have also discovered that being alone from time-to-time is important to my well-being. How I used to wrestle with that idea! Every time that I would be alone in times past, guilt would overwhelm my effort to enjoy the moment. My conscience would beat me for being "selfish" and dominate me with the idea that being alone was somehow wrong and unhealthy. I discovered that that thinking is a sin, an insult to oneself. I learned this and many other things on a river, reading and re-reading chapters of my life against these perfect templates, especially "my" creek. You know the one. But, it has been a long, slow process. The erosion of pretense has revealed my character, the flaws exposed to the healing properties of sunlight and stream water. I sense that it has effected a change for the good, but I'll trust you with the correct judgment of this.

I have tried to share this with you, all of it, what I see and feel. But, I know that it is not really possible, is it? Although we love each other, we understand our world from perspectives that are sometimes very different, as opposite as mirrored waves, regularly parting, regularly returning. It is a marvel and a wonderful thing when we intersect, a point of energy and happiness that sustains us until the next delight. I love you.

It may not be possible to convince you that you are on my mind when I fish. In fact, it sounds trite, like some kind of justification, or worse, a hackneyed attempt to establish a higher purpose for my endeavors. So I won?t try to do that. Suffice it to say that I will be thinking of you. Especially when I am watching the surface of the water, the scalloped, swirling reflections of sky and cloud, forgetting to follow the fly, fixing on colors that bring your eyes to mind, exquisite blue-green pools.

Has this made any sense? I so hope that it has, not so that you will more readily accept my times away, but that you can see my heart and that there is more.