Memory

I remember one early morning in my childhood when I first went fishing with my father. It was cold, so very cold that my hands were numb and I was shaking. My father put his coat over me to keep me warm and we started fishing.

Well, technically, he started fishing cause I was too small to hold a fishing rod. We stayed in silence for some time. I still recall that deep, soothing silence as I gazed at the almost still water of the Danube, like an endless rhythm washing over me. 

This is the first experience that taught me that in order to connect with someone, no words are necessary. That silence can bind you together stronger than words, the smile on my father's face, the way he touched my cheek with his dirty hand and the way I looked at him like he was my universe.

We always went fishing after that. My mom would join us, but she never liked to fish, so it was always me and my dad. The A team. And though I never excelled at fishing, it is still the only thing that brings me peace. 

Just as it is with people. You either connect with them or you don't, but if you do, don't lose that connection. 

Because it's beautiful and it's rare and, as Dante used to say, it can move the sun and all the other stars.