I was born and raised in a fishing village on a South Pacific Island where my father died recently in a fishing accident when I was 16 years old, and ever since, I have fished alone.
I was fishing at sunset with one line and one hook when I caught not two but three fish at once. I was so excited, I ran towards the village carrying my fish stringed together excited to tell everyone about my incredible catch.
However, as I approached, the village I decided not to tell anyone because of the annual Confession Celebration. The festival allows villagers to confess their sins committed within the past year or tell legendary tales to family or friends.
Over the years, some fights have occurred, and many angry words were exchanged but, by the end of the day everyone would exchange loving hugs, and all was forgiven.
If I told anyone how I caught my fish, it would appear I was telling a legendary fish tale. So, I ran home.
When I arrived, my mother greeted me at the door and told me she dreamed my father helped me catch three fish with one line and one hook. I was stunned, with her statement and begin to cry as I held up my three fish. She screamed aloud, with surprise and we hugged.
I told my mother, I actually caught four, but lost the fourth to the sea.
She smiled saying, I didn’t really dream your father helped you catch three fish. I just felt sad you were fishing alone without him, and I really miss him.
I replied dad is with us every day in our memories and forever in our hearts. We cleaned the fish together and enjoyed a wonderful dinner on confessions day.
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