Bait

It’s been so warm this past week, and the ocean is so calm — it’s been fantastic for paddle boarding.

As I was drifting probably too far out in the big blue sea, I started to hear the theme from “Jaws” sneaking into the back of my noodle. The water was so calm and clear I could see the bottom — and I was hoping not to look down and see any uninvited guest that thought I looked like lunch.

I was also remembering fishing as a kid with my brother and Dad in a old rowboat in Dewey Lake, a lake in the belly of Michigan the size of a stamp — catching fish smaller than my fingers. We’d dig a hook in a live worm, and my Dad would comfort my brother and me with, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt the worm.”

And we’d pull a fish in the boat with a hook jammed through his lip he’d always say, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt the fish.”

As I was floating around in the Pacific, I was wondering if a shark decided to snack on one of my thighs he’d think, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt the human.”