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“You know,” Jenni began. “I’ve been thinking about you and baking and cooking, and in a way, it’s like me and fishing. I made some real bone-head mistakes at that tournament this spring, but all in all, I felt pretty relaxed when I was standing there just mesmerized by the waves, the clouds, and the sky. Same when we went offshore in the summer. Catching a fish is really a bonus compared to the fishing experience.”
Jenni saw a twinkle in her uncle’s eye. “What I think I’m hearing is something I never thought I’d hear.” He grinned. “My niece likes fishing.”
For the next few hours, Jenni regaled her uncle with her stories starting with her first disastrous cast and the crazy puffer fish to the day on the Gulf Stream. She also shared bits and pieces about her life in Raleigh since Compy and a little about Caleb. Somehow, she found it easier to talk with her uncle than her own parents.
She noticed her uncle seemed to be pondering something.
“Ah, I don’t know a lot about these kinds of things, Jenni,” her uncle began. “You know if your Aunt Lenore was here, she could guide you better, bein’ a woman and all.” He glanced over at the framed wedding photo of the two of them from decades ago, and Jenni saw a look of such total love and devotion it made her heart hurt.
“But I can tell you this,” he said as he straightened in his chair and looked Jenni in the eye. “We have to learn from our experiences. That’s why we have them. We have to do something with them. And then we have to move on.”
Jenni found herself wringing her hands in her lap, and she had to intentionally make herself stop. It was clear to her that her uncle had noticed the nervous gesture.
“When I was your age, we never really talked about stress and mental health and all of that stuff, especially not men. But after your aunt died, I really felt lost. I struggled. I admitthat now. I talked to some friends at the senior center, and they suggested I see a therapist-type person or counselor or whatever.”
Her uncle took a deep breath, and Jenni knew how hard it was for him to share something so personal.
“So, I finally did,” he continued, relaxing a bit in his chair. “And guess what? It didn’t bring your aunt back, or make me forget her, or any of those things. But it did bring me peace when I learned how to accept what had happened and how best to move forward with the years I have left. I think it was a good thing to do.”
“Thanks, Uncle Ron,” she said softly.
For the rest of the evening, he shared with her some of his experiences on Hatteras years ago when the big blues ran in late October and November. He talked about his favorite kinds of bait and lures and types of rods and reels. He showed her how he liked to cast. He pulled a huge book on saltwater fish from his bookshelf and together they looked at pictures of everything from the dreaded puffer fish to beautiful, majestic marlin.
When Jenni gave him a farewell hug and kiss on the cheek the next morning, she knew she was leaving with not only a much-improved knowledge of fishing but with a powerful life lesson as well.
“Now, don’t be a stranger,” he called out as she headed down the driveway. “And let me know how the tournament goes.”
She saw him still waving as she pulled out onto the street and realized that this one little overnight visit had given her the strength to do what she should have done months ago.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
That week, she spent her lunch hours researching online counselors. She had decided that given her work schedule and her teaching obligations, it would be easier if she found a therapist online.
Apparently, this was an up-and-coming business model as there were plenty of practices from which to choose.
As she scanned the online reviews, she realized this was something she should have done long ago. Her pride had kepther from seeking help; she always believed she was strong enough to handle anything on her own.
Clearly, that is not the case.
Slowly, she began to feel like she was taking control of her life once again, and that was affirming.
She’d never get Compy back, and she’d probably never see Caleb again, but at least she could move forward.
The thoughts of Caleb made her feel sad once again, and she nearly gave up on the counseling idea, thinking she was too broken to fix. But she kept looking, found a firm that she thought would best meet her needs, and made an appointment online.
She studied them carefully, read reviews, and finally decided on one. She made her first appointment and hoped that she had been wrong thinking getting outside help was not for her.
“Nothing happens overnight,” her counselor had advised her. “Work on the little things you can control every day. It’s a process.”
That first session had been a process for sure. Once she started talking, she couldn’t stop.
Her counselor listened, only interrupting occasionally for clarification or to allow Jenni to compose herself.
The tears were flowing freely as she talked both about her failed marriage as well as her issues with Caleb and how conflicted she felt about him.
Over time the tears were less frequent, and Jenni began to understand that a lot of what she had experienced she could have controlled.
At the very least there were plenty of things over which she had no control that she should have let go of.
