12

I was on a fishing boat chartered out of Long Beach, WA.
12 years old.
I'm the only kid on the boat.
We head out into the choppy Pacific.
The sky was gray and rain pelted down.
The waves were pretty big but I thought it was fun.
Splashing through the water.
It was like the Log Ride and Knott's Berry Farms.
Except for, you know, it wasn't over in two minutes.
We were land lubbers so we all got green.
But still we set out the lines.
The rain picked up.
Though feeling sick I was still excited.
Never had been deep sea fishing before.
After a while I realize I'm the only person still out, fishing.
Everyone else was sick.
Inside the cabin.
Well, I was sick too, puking over the side of the boat, but I wasn't going to stop.
Caught a really nice Sea Bass.
Told myself I brought it to the surface with my personal chum.
I want to keep fishing.
Then I notice the rain change.
The sky gets darker.
The sea is still rolling but something is different.
Ominous.
The rain starts to burn my eyes.
The captain comes over the com.
"Sorry folks we are going to have to turn back."
No one is upset by this news but me.
"Mt. St. Helen's blew up again. We're in an ash storm."
COOL, I thought!
I mean.
I was 12.