You drove across the desert seven hours for me and waited patiently, reading newspapers and listening to the radio while I learned the effectiveness of the San Juan worm on its namesake river, fishing in rolled-up blue jeans, skin also blue like icicles.

After graduation, wearing a bikini top and oversized waders with a wilted dandelion in your hair, you caught trout and a pair of one-lensed sunglasses on a size-10 20-incher and we both wished you didn’t have to move so soon…

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