It was such a simple stroke dropping my line into the water— and impatiently pulling it up again hoping to see a snapper swinging from the tip of my bamboo pole. Rippling waves stretched all the way to the lighthouse I watched its beacon ebb and glow over and over again as I waited for the tug at the tip of my bamboo pole. The six of us cousins and sisters hung our legs from the edge of the dock the hot board-wood warming the back of my thighs I dangled my pink flip flops from my feet just enough to catch water in the foam and throw it against my heel up and down went the water my shoes and the tip of my bamboo pole.