My dad and I went fishing when I was five or so. I’m told that I enjoyed it right up until the moment he pulled a Bass out of the lake. Only to me, it’s wasn’t a lake.
It was alligator water.
Why did I think it was alligator water? Apparently I watched TV shows that showed alligators coming out of bodies of water. I translated in my five-year-old mind that this body of water, that used to be the home of my Dad’s catch of the day, must have included alligators, too.
That was 32 years ago. And not a bite of seafood has touched my mouth since.
I know it’s all in my mind. My husband longs to enjoy some lobster or catfish with me. It’s a big joke in my family. Still TO THIS DAY
my mother will tell me about her seafood adventures and then pipe in, “I know you would have wanted to be there!”
Mother? I do not want to eat seafood. Not now. Maybe not ever. I am, however, praying about possibly tasting a bite on my 50th birthday. I am not making any promises, though.
And there you go. Issue #1 addressed.