in my backyard.

You know what they say: hours of waiting leads to seconds of panic.

At least, that’s what our captain told us about king salmon fishing.

There we were, out in Resurrection Bay, trolling for winter kings.

It was a last minute invite, and after an overnight in an old brothel, my gem and I made our way to the docks early the next morning and boarded our vessel for the day.

If you’ve never fished in Seward, it is historically laced with poor weather.

At least, that’s the impression my past experiences have left on me: wind, rain, choppy seas, and questioning whether or not to call the Coast Guard.

Today though, was an entirely different experience.

The seas were flat. The wind was nil. The sun was shining, and it was the prettiest day to be out on the ocean.

But the words of our captain echoed in my ears: hours of waiting leads to seconds of panic.

And that’s precisely how things went: beginning with many hours of waiting.

Now, out of all the days to be on the ocean staring at a fishing pole waiting for that line to come off the down rigger, triggering a rush to reel as quickly as possible, today was a damn near perfect day to be out on the water.

We were entertained by otters, porpoises (porposi?), dall sheep precariously climbing the cliffside, and a few rockfish and cod to fill up the cooler.

But for many hours, there was not a single king in sight.

Until…

Fish on!

Pulling me out of my dazed and sunny stupor, I bolted to the pole and started reeling. Keeping our deckhand’s instructions in mind, I reeled with the precision of an expert fisherwoman and within minutes, my hog was in the net.

I say “hog” because it was the biggest catch of the day.

Because you can bet there were more kings that were caught. Within minutes, the bite was on and we proceeded to reel in a total of four fabulous kings.

Just like that, hours of waiting led to seconds of panic and subsequent joy over our haul.

It’s the kind of story you tell about patience paying off.

Because you see, fishing isn’t always about the catch. Even though that’s what drives us to get on a boat at 5 in the morning, and often times in inclement weather, fishing is oftentimes simply about the journey.

It’s the “hours of waiting” that are sometimes the most memorable: the conversation, the scenery, and the power naps on the deck.

Sure, we were lucky to score, but I would’ve been pleased with my rare and remarkable boat ride, regardless of weather a king made it in.

Fishing is about getting out and away for the day, “reeling” it back to one’s roots and satisfying that hunter gatherer in all of us.

For me, it’s about disconnecting and celebrating the thing that so many people save for their entire lives.

Which I am lucky enough to experience, in my own backyard.

down memory lane.

a song to set the scene // young forever by jay z

It was during my pre-show pee that memories came flooding back.

There I was, crouched in the stall of the bathroom at the high school, partaking in a routine that had not changed in 17 years.

The combination of that particular bathroom, mixed with hairspray, “sunshine” (sparkles applied to the top of a dancer’s hair before a show), and the very act of pulling down my leotard flooded me with memories past.

It felt like it had only been yesterday that I was getting ready for a dance show, nerves taking me to my familiar spot in the bathroom.

How had it been over a decade that I last danced like this?

But there I was, now getting ready to take the stage once again; this time, as an alumni dancer.

It was just over two weeks ago that I was contacted about performing in the company annual showcase as a veteran.

Honored, and slightly nervous, I accepted, and it’s been taking me down memory lane ever since.

Dusting off the old jazz shoes, getting reacquainted with my body, and applying makeup in the bathroom felt like riding that familiar bike.

It’s like my body never forgot.

Sure, I’m significantly older and my stamina isn’t quite what it used to be, but the muscle memory never left.

It’s funny, my initial thoughts about dancing in the show as an alum brought about insecurities about appearing as a has been dancer who never made it big.

But someone wise told me that the purpose of the alumni was to show the young dancers not that we were has been dancers who never made it big, but that dance never left us.

We were there to show them that no matter where life took them, their experiences performing stay with them, forever.

There’s a number at the end of the show that I get to watch before we go on.

In it, dancers hold various signs saying what dance means to them:

Friendship, Escape, For the Soul, My Body, Self-Expression, and a myriad of others speckle the stage.

For me, dance is forever.

It has, is, and it will continue to be a part of me for years to come.

And even though the hair grays, the flexibility flatlines, and the hips pop louder than they did 17 years ago, some things never change.

Like my pre-show pee.

Oh what a trip down memory lane.