I am sitting down under the shade of a tree next to a four year old with one goal in mind: teach him how to fish. This kid has been wanting to fish for all his life and I have been placed with the treacherous quest of teaching him.

To start I get a mini super man kids fishing rod light enough for him to hold it. Next I get fat worms for bait, which I have to skewer on the hook for him. I thought this part would be simple, but given that the kid, the child of a family friend, needs to return to his Mom unharmed, it was a challenge. Every time I tried to set the hook down to fish out a worm from the white bucket, he started to jump up and down, risking jumping on the hook. To this, I said, “you got to sit down” and “be careful of the hook”, but it was to no avail. When I finally manage to put a worm on, I stable the rod when he holds it, preventing a squirming fish from pulling him in. When a fish bites he then takes both of his hands and with all of his strength cranks the wheel to pull the fish up, and when he does, he does a victory dance right-next-to the hook. 

Throughout the day we catch five tiny fish, and he is exhilarated from the experience. So much so that he found the need to tell every detail to his mother who was seeking peace and quiet, which was the reason I taught him how to fish for an hour in the first place. Although this day was stressful, seeing the smile on the little kid's face when he caught a fish was completely worth it. Being able to make a difference in a life, even if it is as small as teaching him how to fish, felt magical.