Narrative Essay About Fishing

Fishing out of the keys, it was almost impossible to come back empty handed. Most of the time we would come back with a bloody boat and a cooler full of fish that my dad would need to filet right there on the dock. “Jeremy get the front lines.” “ Jeremy go wash these off.” “Jeremy this, Jeremy that.” I love to go fishing but I don’t really like the constant requests my dad makes nor how long it takes to catch a damn fish. Fishing is something that my dad and I can do together and even after I realized I’m not much of a fisherman, I do enjoy watching my dad filet his catches after a nice morning on the water. I remember one time, I watched as he sliced open fish after fish, all of their guts spilled out all over the dock and I tried to tell if it was a
I asked my dad a lot of questions about fish but he would always kind of blow them off. Im not sure if that is because he really didn’t care, he didn’t know, or maybe a little bit of both. I always found the anatomy of it to be so fascinating, the way everything was placed so perfectly and everything was there for a reason. When my dad was done extracting the filet I stood there and explored the fishes insides trying to label organs with my extent anatomical knowledge which I picked up from sitting with my mom as she watched General Hospital and a couple dissections I did in middle school. After labeling all of the organs I actually knew, I examined the fishes gills. To this day I never and still do not understand how they can allow fish to breath under water. I was down there dissecting for so long that my hands smelt like fish for a couple days. I recall my mom had to come and yell at me for messing around with the dead fish. “Jeremy what are you doing, come inside and shower.” I tried to hold her off for as long as I could by saying something like “one second!” or “I’m coming!” and hoped she did something else and forgot. This ended with my mom having to come down and almost threaten me to