When I Was Fishing

A few weeks ago, my sister dropped off a few boxes of family heirlooms that had been buried in her attic for many years.

Translation:
By "few boxes," I mean truckload.
By "many years," I mean that they were in my parents' attic before they were in my sister's, so they haven't seen the light of day in decades.
And by "heirlooms," I mean everything from my old Baby Sitter's Club books to Christmas decorations to magazines and newspaper clippings about the Beatles to eight brand new Cabbage Patch Kids bought in 1982 and still in their original boxes.)

Well, the Type A in me refuses to just transfer the loot to yet a third attic without going through it, organizing it, and making a long-term plan, so our spare bedroom is now a daunting portal into the Past.

So, as a tribute to my wonderful younger sister who opened this Pandora's box to begin with, here is a story I found in one of the boxes that I must have written in first or second grade. Meg, this one's for you...

When I Was Fishing

When I was fishing, I caught a turtle as big as me. I weigh 39 pounds so the turtle weighed 39 pounds too. I couldn't pull it in so my Dad did. When it got off the hook, it ate my sister. And I said, "Thank goodness." It was mean so we let it go.

by Emily Elizabeth Maricelli