Do you remember-it was an afternoon in May-oh,fifteen years ago-I don’t remember every detail but some things are as vivid as can be:the boat was blue and the paint was peeling and there was an empty cigarette packet floating in the water at the bottom between two trout and the left rowlock kept slipping and you had given me your hat and had put your jacket around my shoulders because there had been a shower of rain. And you had the rod in your left hand-I can see the cork nibbled away from the butt of the rod-and maybe we had been chatting-I don’t remember-it doesn’t matter-but between us at that moment there was this great happiness, this great joy-you must have felt it too-it was so much richer than content-it was a great, great happiness, and active, bubbling joy-although nothing was being said-just the two of us fishing on a lake on a showery day-and young as I felt, I knew, that this was precious…
— Private from ”Philadelphia, Here I Come!” by Brian Friel.
