Do you remember that time on a long ago paper plane kind of day when we went fishing at Rainbow Beach?
The cliffs cascaded skyward in streaks of Crayola pigments reds and pinks and yellows and splashes of citrus orange that bled into the white sand as though mother nature had accidentally coloured in outside of the lines.
We stood in water the colour of sapphires the frothy waves lapping around your skinny ankles the wind picking up your blonde hair and standing it on end making you look like a crazy cockatoo trying to catch his dinner.
And then your fishing line entangled.
Pulled by planetary currents and a cranky 30 Knott wind the line surrendered to the elements and left you feeling defeated the hot tears that stung your eyes not caused by the sand whipping at your face but rather from downhearted disappointment.
I spent an hour untangling that fishing line.
You sat upon the soft sand head bent down to your knees as I worked away at the tangled mess and talked to you about how the cliffs came to get such beautiful colours rattling on about oxidisation and mineralisation as the mighty cliffs protected you from the relentless wind.
And the ocean whispered its apologies.
We never caught any fish that day but I did unsnarl that knotted line and to this day still you come to me with complicated knots and tangles that make up the messiness of life that don't need hands to unravel them just a mother's advice and words of wisdom to help smooth out the line you walk.
Son, I may not always have the right answers and I may not always be able to untangle the knots but I'll always be here to take hold of the line and try my hardest to help you unbind the pains and problems that you encounter.
I'll always try my hardest to do that.
And who knows, one day you might actually finally catch a fish.
Just don't ask me how to cook it because as you love to point out to me -
Not just a world-famous author, Vladimir Nabokov was also a serious lepidopterologist, or studier of butterflies. He was a Comparative Zoology research fellow at Harvard, where much of his butterfly collection remains today.