My absolute earliest memories were fishing with my Grandfather. I can remember the gamey stench in the air of fish. I remember the fist-sized snapping and box turtles climbing out of the pond at the Trout Hatchery. I remember putting my little hands, not even a quarter of the size of what they are now, going into the tupperware of dirt carrying the worms to go on the hook. I remember pricking myself with the fish hook, and not being upset because of what I was doing, all while I was not even four years old. It was not hot outside, but I can feel the sun baring its hot rays on my then hairless face while casting a line on my Batman fishing pole I had just bought from Wal-Mart. Grandpa had his suspenders on over his short-sleeved button-down wearing his dirty white nike shoes. I remember this because he died when I was very young. The impression he left on me was a feeling of comfort and I get it every time I drive past the old hatchery. I wouldn't say the feeling is just like going back to a homepage, but it is similar in description.
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