When I learn a word, it’s like finally, the evasive, o-so-slippery fish is securely caught in my hands. No longer taunted by the memory of the elusive perch sliding through my grip. What makes the hold successful this time? That’s a mystery I do not know; I just filet and eat. Boney and tiny or big and juicy, it’s mine. Oh for a stronger net, to readily catch and contain these words, this life.
