Damn I hated it when each trip was over. Don't get me wrong. Cleaning, airing and storing the gear had to be done. As much a part of the experience as pitchin' spinners. The putziness of the put away made the taking out in the coming spring surprise free. But it's what goes on in my head that does me in. A long awaited adventure over. Finito. Like a little death. Now a whole year 'til the next trip. Don't know whether to cry or scream. But all that gets sucked up. Nothing's gonna make it any better. Keep cleaning the gear. Been through that drill too many times in the past. It's a learned skill. Not one you want to learn. What gets you through is realizing this ain't the end of the world. Knowing there will be a next year helps a lot. In a couple of weeks I'll start counting down the days. Focusing on the long drive, time with Al and back on the water for a week or two. Maybe someplace new. Almost too strong a brew to get a handle on.
Somewhere down the road there won't be a next year. That's just the way life is. Doesn't make the passing any easier. No point in dwelling on that. So I don't. Knowing that day is there is enough.
One saving grace. Allan has a son. He'll be 48 when Matthew graduates from High School. Somewhere, somehow, they'll find their own version of Canada. Makes me smile.