The sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the calm waters. Oenhi adjusted her position, the oald wooden fishing boat rocking gently beneath her. The smell of salt and fresh fish filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of Solomon's favorite pipe tobacco.
Her grandfather, Solomon, sat across from her, his long, calloused hands expertly working the fishing line. He had always been patient, always knew just when to reel it in, just when to cast. For a man who had seen the rise and fall of many and the life that shaped them, fishing had always been something simple, something grounding.
"You know, Oenhi," Solomon said, his voice low and steady, "when I was your age, I thought I had all the answers. But all I really needed was to learn how to wait."
Oenhi smiled, her fingers tightly gripping her own fishing rod. With orange eyes to follow, "What do you mean?"
Solomon chuckled, a sound that warmed the air between them. His laugh was deep, like rolling thunder. "What do I mean? ," he said, glancing at her with twinkling eyes, "Everyone has a purpose. And the world's biggest lessons? They come from patience. From waiting for the right moment."
Oenhi's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "And what do you wait for?"
"Everything," he replied, casting his line into the water. "For the right fish, for the right answer, for the right time. Most importantly, though, I wait for the things that matter most to me."
She turned her head to him, her eyes softening. "And what matters most to you, Grandpa?"
He paused, looking out over the water, the wind teasing his silver hair. There was a moment of quiet, just the sound of the water lapping against the boat, before he spoke. "Family, Oenhi. Always family. People who have your back, who trust you. You've grown into someone strong, stronger than you know....Although, you're just twelve. "
The silence broke with his chuckling.
Her heart swelled. It was moments like this that made everything else fade away. Oenhi had always felt the weight of Solomon's love and protection, even if he didn't always say it aloud. She wanted to reach out, to hold onto that moment forever, but she knew better than to break the calm between them.
Solomon leaned back, stretching his legs out, his hands resting comfortably on his lap. "Do you know why I fish, Oenhi?"
"Because that's what old people do?" she teased, nudging him with her elbow.
He raised an eyebrow. "It's not about being old. It's about the quiet. I've been through enough chaos in my life, seen enough things, that I just want moments like this. When everything is still, and the world slows down."
Oenhi was quiet, taking it all in. Her grandfather had always been a man of mystery, of stories too big for any one person to fully comprehend. Yet, in these small moments, on this little boat, with the soft glow of the setting sun, she felt as if she understood him more than she ever had before.
"Do you ever regret anything?" she asked, glancing up at him.
"Regret what?" Solomon replied, his gaze fixed on the water.
"Anything. I mean, here is basically the only place I know so I'm quite curious if you made mistakes in the past" The little girl asked.
He exhaled slowly, eyes softening with a touch of sorrow. "I've made my mistakes. But I'd never regret learning from them. And I'd never regret the family I've built along the way. Even when it hurts."
Her heart skipped at the unspoken weight behind his words, but she didn't press him further. Instead, she focused on the water, letting the quiet between them speak louder than anything else.
The tip of her fishing rod twitched. She held her breath, instinctively tightening her grip.
"There's something there," Solomon said, his eyes flicking to her line.
With a determined smile, Oenhi reeled in the line. It was a struggle, but she was strong, strong enough for this. She pulled with all her might, her muscles straining as she fought to pull in the catch.
"Looks like you've got yourself a King Cod," Solomon said, his voice a mix of admiration and pride.
Oenhi grinned, pulling the fish aboard. It was big, one of the biggest she'd ever caught. "You always say the big ones take patience."
"That's right. And this one's all yours."
She looked up at him, feeling that quiet strength between them. "I wouldn't have gotten this far without you, Grandpa."
He reached over, ruffling her black short hair affectionately. "And you never will, Oenhi. You've got everything you need, right here." He placed his hand over his chest, then patted her hand with a warmth that made her heart swell.
The sky above them deepened into twilight, stars beginning to twinkle on the horizon.
In that moment, Oenhi felt a peace she had never known before, a peace rooted in the love of family and the quiet trust between her and Solomon.
As they made their way back to shore, the weight of their shared bond settled in her heart. She didn't know what the future held, but in her grandfather's presence, she was certain of one thing: they would always be together.
Always.