Standing waist deep, Ted braced against the insistent flow and followed the fly as it drifted with the current. Watching for the swirl of water that accompanied a trout rising from the river bed. The air moved with the river, from the west. The smell of rain was in the air.
Fly fishing was a form of meditation for Ted. He found serenity in its conflicts. Constant pressure from the force of the water against his body and a lure that floated without resistance on the current. The reflection of light off the surface and the dark recesses where his adversary lay in wait. He loved the poetry of motion in casting the line. The raising of the arm, drawing the line up and off the surface, pulling it back over his shoulder, taking in line with his other hand and the moment in time when the line lingered in the air, behind him, then throwing it forward, closing with the opposite hand, whipping the line ahead and watching it roll out across the water. The voices that echoed in his mind were quieted here. He could think, feel and reflect.
Ted kept a wary eye to the west, watching the weather. Dark billowing clouds at the head of the valley promised rain and the distant rumble underscored the threat of lightening. Ted made his way to shore and collected Boo who had waited patiently for his return. Boo was a 14 year old Black Mouth Cur that was Ted’s constant companion. Boo would sit on the shore and watch every cast Ted made. The river snaked through the countryside nestling up to and running along side Main Street, marking the southern boundary of town, the river soon turn away and ambled down the valley. Ted and Boo made their way down Main Street along the river’s edge. People had walked here for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Main Street was first paved in the early 1900’s. Before it was a street, wagons made ruts in the ground. The wagons had followed a trace on the land evidencing the passing of travelers on foot.
Barely four blocks long and anchored in the center by The Alameda Theater, Main street was a place where a stroll after church was a welcome opportunity to visit with neighbors and friends. The Alameda was a grand structure opened in the 1930’s built in the art deco style. The ornate facade included a blade sign reaching upward sixty feet with the theater’s name spelled out in capital letters stacked one upon the other. It was not a theater, it was a palace to house the nobility of the silver screen and to celebrate the imagining of the impossible. The Theater was the central landmark of the town.
Ted’s father and his father before him had walked this street. He passed the building that once held the Five and Dime store, where his grandmother meet his grandfather. Further down was the old bank building where his mother had been a teller. She met his father there. Ted had courted his wife and taken her to the Alameda Theater. His kids grew up going to the same theater and shopping in all the stores that lined the street. His roots were deep in this town. It was a part of him. There was no place that he would rather live.
Main street was buttressed by a lattice work of residential streets lined by the elms and oaks planted a hundred and fifty years ago when the town was founded. The trees had a majestic presence with their branches spreading out and crossing the divide to form a canopy of foliage over the carriage paths that were now paved roads. Houses with picket fences framed the streets and were loving decorated with ornamental plants and flowers.
Ted made his way back to his car with Boo leading the way carrying her leash in her mouth as they walked. People stopped and said hello to Boo.
“Hello Sheriff.” A shop owner said as he reached to greet Boo.
“Catch any?” the shop owner asked.
“Not enough for dinner, let’em all go” Ted replied as he continued his walk home.
Ted’s cell phone rang and the caller ID said it was from the office.
“Sheriff, this is dispatch, we got a request for a welfare check at the Nielsen place. Terry’s mother hasn’t been able to reach her is several days and is concerned.” The dispatcher said. Can you stop by on your way home? Everyone else is tied up.”
“Will do, just headed that way now.”
“Thanks”,
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