Troy Reginald PYWELL

Love is Extended Metaphors

Just the thought of a day spent with my little brother at our favourite fishing spot brings a smile to my face. My brother is like my favourite fishing spot, and without him it's just a twist in the river full of our memories. Countless summers bonded us at our favourite fishing spot. Our fishing spot is the symbol of our love.

Hard earned dollars don't seem better spent anywhere but at the tackle shop. When things get tough at home the easiest escape was to grab our fishing rods and make our way down to the river. I've never caught something as big and strong as I have there; whether the catch was our friendship or a steelhead is hard to choose between. Love is the whip in my wrist as I cast out. No storm could keep us away, no raging river and pouring rain could stop us from casting our reels. Love is the spinning of my reel, out of everything we've been through this was the one thing that didn't make us dizzy. When everything else seems temporary the arbutus trees were always there waiting for us, they waited as patiently as we did for the catch. Love is the ageing arbutus trees which lose their shields and regain one even stronger the season following.

When we grow older and have children of our own, our friendship turns into a memory and I return to our spot. It breaks my heart returning alone; it breaks my heart that he's no longer with me. The changes in life show me that the love is still here, it just hurts to feel it at times. Love is thinking about how important the memories are now, knowing there's no more to make. He was my shadow as a child, following my every step. Today he's the sun that shine down on my back; today he is my shadow.