FISHING WITH GRANDPA
“No,” Grandpa shouted, “that one isn’t big enough.” I looked at the small sunfish at the end of my pole. Quickly, I curled the hook backward, and eased the fish back into the lake.
After my grandfather and I had decided to go fishing that morning, we got out the yellow raft and a mud anchor. “Be careful of the hook,” he said, handing me the long, knobby bamboo pole that was twice as long as I was tall. We walked through the cold, wet grass to the rich-blue lake.
I asked, “Grandpa, do you think I’ll catch any?”

