This time it was a tentative pull, not solid nor heavy, and he knew exactly what it was. He felt no straining nor weight and he held the line lightly. He reached for the line and held it softly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Yes,” and shipped his oars without bumping the boat. “Andrew,” she whispered and returned to bed.īy then the Marlin had found Santiago’s bait. “Ten pages more,” I returned to Santiago and his cramping left hand. “You have school tomorrow,” she reminded me. “No.I’m almost finished with this book,” I thumbed the remaining pages. “Do you know what time it is?” she whispered. I was still reading in the empty tub at midnight when my mother knocked at the door. It was nine that night when my brother complained about the light and I retreated to our single bathroom. There in the Gulf Stream, he believed his luck would change in the deep water where the schools of bonita and albacore lived. I learned the boy Manolin’s parents forbid him to fish with Santiago who planned to sail alone from Cuba into the Straits of Florida. Manfred worked through a geometry equation, I met Santiago, the Cuban fisherman who had gone eighty-four days without a catch. Lyon’s literature class but I spent much of third period math sneaking glances at the book open on my lap below the desk. Not the Nobel Prize winning writer, but his novel, “The Old Man and The Sea.” It was required reading in Ms. I met Ernest Hemingway in the ninth grade.
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