Salmon (COMING BACK 2021)

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Which is why my name is River Jamie Ludwig, only granddaughter of Jameson Ludwig.

But my hair wasn't fiery orange. Everyone thought it would be, just like all of the babies' in the family, my hair started off a platinum blonde. By elementary school It was midnight black and very much stuck out against my relatives' lighter locks. I had dark freckles on my crooked nose and around my almond eyes.

It may seem crazy to leave your belongings and home behind to travel thousands of miles across the country for fish. But that is just what type of person grandpa was. He died when I was seven years old and could only remember him teaching me how to fish. A Ludwig rite of passage. And how I had never seen him run a comb through his frizzy hair.

I was five and fumbled with the red tackle box in my two fists. Often it would tangle around my small legs and cause me to stumble. My tall snow boots which left a trail of little imprints in the slush.

"Watch out River, I have had that tackle box for hundreds of years."

"Hundreds?!" I exclaimed and looked at my grandfather's face. He looked pretty good to be a century old. "You can't be a hundred!"

"Ah, young one you got me." He ruffled my dark hair and grabbed the tackle box from my tiny hands. I grabbed a hold of his big coat jacket and followed him to the water.

"Next week," He started, folding out two chairs carefully, "The sharks will come to the Aquarium." He sighed into his seat and I sat with my junior fishing pole. I watched as he tied his hook onto the line. "Watch this knot okay River?"

I nodded and tried my best to copy the knot. Grandpa's wrinkled hands covered in liver spots gracefully tied a cinch knot. Mine was loose with gaps but I ran to the tackle box and picked out bait. A tan worm wiggled in my tiny palm and I scrunched up my tiny nose. I improperly flung the fishing line into the water surrounded by drifting ice chunks and waited.

"Grandpa...how long do I have to wait for the fish?" We spent nearly an hour in comfortable silence and I watched as my grandfather reeled in what seemed to be his twentieth catch.

"River you must have patience." I scowled and puckered my pink lips.

A tug on the line made me perk up. "Grandpa! A fish!" I tugged on the pole and tried to reel the fish in but it was too heavy. My grip on the pole was lost and the fishing pole that was once my grandfather's as a boy, fell into the icy water. I cried out and reached down from the edge of the ice to feel for it. I held my breath and stuck my face in the water and saw a milky white fish with yellow scales dragging my pole along with it.

Large hands grabbed my shirt and pulled me from the water. I gasped and coughed.

"Grandpa Ludwig! The pole fell!"

He sighed and looked down into the water. "It is fine child, just never do that again." He grabbed my arm and together we packed up our belongings. Tears ran down my face as I silently sobbed. I turned around and caught a glimpse of the red bobber against the ice. I wiggled out of my grandfather's grasp and ran to the red object.

The pole was mysteriously on the slushy ground and I wiped away my tears with my gloved hands and skipped to my grandfather as we walked hand in hand to the aquarium.