My Golden Pond.

It was one of those golden days in late summer, as the seasons were turning. Ava had been tidying her cupboards, Spring cleaning before Autumn. Her once golden hair was grey now, aging spots cluttered her hands. She had fancied writing a letter, as in those golden days, instead of the modern digital world of emailing and texting. As her friends were either dead, vision impaired or half gaga, she caught her breath, and composed a letter to posterity. Or, indeed, an epistle to the generations of youth.

"Here is a message from one the world's old timers, now only as old as we feel each day. When I was your age, I was your age. Hope you enjoy every happy feel good. I was hitched in a tasteful church white wedding, which is not compulsory these days. Younger women can choose to put a ring on anyone of any gender they decide, or not at all. Good for them, each to their own. These days, anything goes. I must say, we tried not to listen to some of our mothers' advice, as they had all got married because they were already pregnant. In their days, large bouquets of discreet nuptial flowers covered bulging baby bellies. Some of their wedding photos featured only very grim head and shoulder images."

"Times and customs changed. Not far away, but in another century,

the golden-haired lassie I was really enjoyed being youthful and so in love. Gareth, my later ex-husband wanted this young lady newly wed to escort him when we went fishing. Even then, I was looking to see the best in him and his plans, not to mention some of his lack of abilities. We can all be good at something."

"Right, that was the scheme. A couple of days before we went fishing for trout, we needed to forage for bait in the natural supermarket of wilderness, amid the forests, an adventure. Clad in jeans and the sensible footwear of ancient times, hubby and I marched across a sunny paddock of farmland, where cattle had been grazing. There, my squeamish soulmate (?) turned over cow manure with his shovel, so I could collect large, wriggling scrub worms. We stockpiled a bucket full of this form of Australian wildlife. I maintained their general wellbeing until this much anticipated fishing trip."

" The appointed hour arrived, but the weather was predicted to be scorching hot. "You'll need to wear these gumboots, because of snakes," Gareth told me. I was not even slightly deterred by the great white hunters, namely my husband and his fishing mate, a supposedly wise old owl of all angling experiences for suburbanites. I put on three pairs of woolly socks, so the excessively male sized gumboots would fit. The intrepid fishing mates and I ventured forth across more than a mile, until we left the car and hiked past river banks. I was more than perspiring as I carried the bulging bag of fresh rolls and cans of soft drinks."

"Eventually, the experienced fisher males chose each of us the ideal sites for the best catch of the day. We all drank a can of fizzy drink, full of sugar and coloring chemicals. In modern days, such drinks are labelled, "Now additive free." So, what were we drinking? Then there was no rehydrating from plastic bottles of water."

"My designated fishing spot was a beautiful golden pond in a slow curve in the river. I had to sit and 'watch the lines', after the wriggly giant worms on hooks were cast into the pool."

"But sitting there on that side of the stream had no shade. The afternoon hours elapsed, the blazing sun grew hotter, the air temperature was around 100 degrees. I had also supplied a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, plus a spare lighter. I also had a spare library book, being a bookworm. The lure of the shade of the overhanging tree on the far side was way too tempting for this then recent bride. I stopped watching fixedly those fishing lines. I was just way too hot. The birds were silent, only the sounds of insects buzzing could be heard. Dragonflies fluttered, and dipped. I could not resist this call of the wilderness. All the shade was on the far side of the golden river pond, trees overhanging dappled that golden afternoon."

"Bravely, giving no thought to potential tiger snakes, I took off the gumbies, multiple pairs of socks, and my blue jeans. 'Ah, now I can begin to enjoy my first fishing trip,' this young Ava thought. I can now tell young ones, that was a feel good happy time. I spent a peaceful hour, sitting right there in the shade of that golden refreshing pond. I enjoyed reading my excellent book and smoking my ciggies at the same time. it must be one of my acquired life skills. A modern lifehack would say multitaskers can all combine some approaches."

"I calmly enjoyed being blissfully cool in tranquillity, until my husband arrived from his fishing spot to say, crossly, "What are you doing? You're scaring away my fish!"

"Bemused, I was not game to comment, as the fishing lines were reeled to shore, totally empty of fish and bait. I could imagine such trout fatly swimming away, smirking after eating all those scrub worms. "What fish?" I did not dream to ask. Gareth was already ballistic enough. The lines were rebaited with the wrigglies in the bucket. I clambered to the sunshine, quite cool and okay. I read my bool, while those naughty trout swiped all the bait, despite such masculine fishing expertise."

"Finally, we cast the remnants of the worms into the river, listening to the complaining about 'the ones that got away." Dipping our bare hands into the slow old river at golden pond for hygeine, we traipsed back to the car. No fish for our dish in the bucket. No hand sanitizer or rubber gloves in sight or in use. Winding down the automobile windows for refreshing the hot, stifling air, we went to a nearby fish and chips shop for nutrition. We did enjoy some fried fish, even thought the sea and surf was far away."

"Guess we old timers and youth can all conclude while thinking on such practices on my golden pond, the human race must be tough as old boots. So far, as a global collective, we have not expired of dehydration or ptomaine poisoning!"

"So, all I can write to the future who may be reading this, enjoy being young. When we were your age, we certainly did!"

The golden age Ava smiled and rested, reminiscing on her golden pond.