-Personal+narrtive+Fishing+3Markell-

Fishing One fond memory of mine with my dad is when me and my dad one summer morning we went to Chat field river to go fishing. We sent out our fishing rods into the lake. My dad felt a tug on his line I saw a fish as big as my foot reel up. I had wide eyes at that thing. Then there was another tug on my line .Then I instantly tripped... my dad caught me just in time before I fell in the river but he didn't get the bate in time it started floating down the river with my red green and blue fishing pole. So the rest of the time we were hunting for bugs we only found a cricket then we tried out the cricket nothing happened it was getting to be sun down so we eventually headed home. It felt good to get home and lay on my comfy pillow and go to bed.