As she moved her head to
follow the gentle drift of the dry
fly, her soft, brown eyes widened
behind her sunglasses, and held
their steady gaze. A rainbow
trout drifted lazily from behind a
rock to study her. I watched him
watching her and stifled the urge
to speak. Her long, soft flight of
line took air and spilled gently as
it dropped the dry fly without a
ripple. In an instant, her mouth
mimicked his as it opened wide
to opportunity. He was hers.
This was the unexpected
moment I would return to year
after year—the day I learned Kate
crossed the river of girlhood
and no longer needed me to tell
S P R I N G | 2 013
16
her. She was not mine; she was
separate. She was herself.
I sat on the shore, in awe of
the babe I'd once cradled. And
I knew I was meant to bring
her to this place of informal
awakening—both hers and my
coming of age.
Kathleen Clary Miller
is the author of over 400 essays and
stories that have appeared in major
national publications as well as Montanan. She writes regular columns.
Read more about her and her stories
at http://kcmillersoutpost.blogspot.
com. She lives in the woods of the
Ninemile Valley, west of Missoula.
Kathleen and Kate
D I S T I N C T LY M O N TA N A
Gal
Kathleen Miller's Amazon Author's
page: https://www.amazon.com/
author/millerkathleenclary
