The One That Got Away

Sometimes I can’t help but think about the one that got away — wondering what could have been. A lifetime of memories that may have been missed. I think about who I was back then… was it something I did? Did I try hard enough? Why did that one get away while others stayed? Plenty of fish have declined my overtures, but one loss in particular haunts me more than the rest.

Montana, 2014. Forest fires in Oregon cast a hazy yellow hue over the Big Sky state. I didn’t do very well on the Yellowstone that trip, but I got lucky near Slough Creek down in Wyoming. Word from the locals was that the only place with consistent action was the Big Horn. So I packed up, drove the gobsmackingly gorgeous route through the Beartooth Pass, arrived, and headed straight for the spot.

I began my pursuit and quickly fell into the rhythm of the river. The scenes, the sounds, the cool air — all of it settled me as the sun dipped behind the trees. The quiet of the hour between wolf and dog drifted in, and the rippling water lulled me into a soft meditation. Then, she showed herself, and my rod sprang to life.

Shocked out of my trance, my adrenaline spiked as the line ripped upstream. I instinctively raised the rod high to take out the slack and stumbled over smooth stones to keep up with what felt like a life-changing fish. I caught up to her, the rod nearly bent in half, and she paused — and I paused. Was she flirting with me? Were we dancing? Was this really happening?

My heart was racing. Could she be the one? We were likely looking right at each other, though I couldn’t see her in the gloom. Before I could make my next move, the fly rocketed out of the water and past my shoulder. In the same instant she spit the hook, she swallowed a piece of my heart. She rejected me.

That moment has never fully left me. Why do we hold on to pain like this? Time heals, sure, but it works slowly. At first, I blamed myself entirely. Heartbreak is no joke. But as the years passed and the sting softened, I started to understand something deeper.

It takes two to tango. The object of your desire has a say in how things unfold. It’s not always just your fault. I’m healthier now — and have had many successful, joyful relationships with fish since that day. I try to focus on the positive and be grateful for the experiences themselves, not only the outcomes.

It truly is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.