Memory Lane (fiction word count: 100)
That dock is where I learned the clove-hitch knot.
The instructor sucked at teaching; I thought I didn’t have the dexterity for knots.
Funny how some of the experts in a field cannot teach very well.
All he had to do was tell me to cross the loops into a pretzel-like shape…
Hard to believe it was more than 30 years ago –
like seeing a ghost.
Wanna dock for a while?
But can we stay a few more minutes?
I have that inner swell of a gut feeling that comes from memory lane.
Like a stomach knot?