**Day 1: New Moon, New Adventure.**

Dear Diary,

Today is the day I fly to Homer, Alaska to stay with Grandpa Hammond. Do I want to do that? No, but I have no choice, I have no other family to stay with, because as you know diary, I have one else to stay with. I have no cousins, no aunts of uncles, just me and Mom, living the dream, well I wish we actually don’t interact. She is too busy with work. The corporate world really is dumb. They expect you to just work 24/7 with no time to sit and well—do things. I could never sit and chat with people all day…I think that’s what my mom does? I rather just talk to you diary, you don’t have any opinions, you just listen to me.

But she just has to send me away! Two thousand-four hundred and eighty five miles away. I just need to “get outside! Get my feet wet! Be a normal kid!” She’s making it seem like I do not know what the outdoors are, but it’s her fault! I’m always being watched in a building, whether it be by teachers or summer camps that promote “learning” when really they promote me to lose my mind. “Sorry honey it’s just work makes me busy!” Yeah, yeah.

Any way, Grandpa is the worse. Every family gathering just consists of Mom and him just sitting at a table, arguing or just not saying anything to each other. It’s always him calling her a disgrace or my mom yelling about past trauma. Not really sure what happened, all I know is that apparently he wasn’t there for her, I guess? That’s what they yell about. I am just glad we don’t live by Grandpa.

But then, I can’t sympathize with my Mom either, I don’t feel like she is ther for me either.

Grandpa is a fisherman, he mostly catches halibut. After all if you know Alaska, you know that Homer is the halibut fish capital of the United States. It’s probably Al the reason he smells like fish, and has crummy finger nails—gross! They’re always so black and nasty. One time he shook my hand, and I swear even after washing my hands they still smelled like that sticky fish. And he always wears these stinky overalls, he probably never washes and then a dark red hat, I could almost swear it reminds me of Dr. Pepper—Bleh!

So yeah, I’m not looking forward to staying with Grandpa Hammond—for a month! Ugh! And Alaska? Even worse. Well I’m boarding the plane now.

**Days 2-4 Waxing Crescent, Increasing Annoyance. **

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Dear Diary,

Sorry if I haven’t written to you. I know you missed me so much. It turns out Grandpa lives in a shack near the water now. It’s such a small little home with a tin roof, walls with wooden paneling’s and I feel like everywhere I look I see dead animals on the wall. I think it’s called s taxy derm thing? And the house smells terrible, he just keeps his gross hip high boots thrown on the ground. And it’s freezing! It’s not Seatle cold. How does this man survive the winter? I guess his fat from his sodas keeps him warm.

I cannot believe I have been in this dump for almost four days now and Grandpa Hammond wants nothing to do with me, seriously! Everyday has been the same routine. I wake up usually around six AM in that raggedy old bedroom (mind you Grandpa SNORES carry through the walls), and I just got to the kitchen and sit there reading my books until he comes in. He leaves the radio on throughout the night, so each morning I have caught the morning forecast. All it talks about is the tides of the water. Usually Grampa comes in and listens too, him nodding his head like he understands. I don’t, and I really don’t care about how high or low water is, how boring.

Everyday I am hoping this man says something to me that isn’t about food “your food is ready,” “you can eat if you want” or “the fridge is in the garage if you need it.” But all he has is grits, oatmeal, eggs—oh my gosh he puts raw egg into his coffee, which is too burned by the way, I’ve tried it. People say I’m too young for coffee but I really don’t care, I like it, but God forbid not his coffee, it’s too dark and strong and he has no creamer!

After he listens to his water tide podcast, drinks his disgusting egg filled coffee he slips on his boots over his overalls and says “see yah kid.”

I’m not a kid, I am thirteen.

But this evening at dinner he didn’t say “see yah kid” he said “I talked to your mom, she wants you out of the house.” Granted, I was by myself all day, which was good! No adults just me, my books and my phone. I even filmed a tik tok. “You’re coming with me tomorrow morning, I think I have some old clothes that belonged to your mother in the dresser in your room. Put on the overalls, I might have a pair of boots in the garage,” he said. I protested, nicely because idk what the old man is capable of, told him I wasn’t interested and I don’t even like fish. He said “no exceptions, I will see you tomorrow. We’ll leave after the tides forecast, so get up early to eat.” Right. Eat. Before I could protest my fate of slop food and stinky fish, the man just left the room and went to his “captain’s quarters,” as I like to call it, to go back to sleeping I guess.

I see why Mom hates him so much. He just seems like a lazy and mean slouch to me. I guess because he is so old.

**Day 5: First Quarter, First Time Fishing.**

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Dear Diary,

Long entry incoming!

Well this page might smell like fish, I just cannot get the smell out off my hands, because Gramps here made me touch a fish. Today was awful! Awful! Grandpa woke me up at five AM, way too early. I admit I get up early but I was so upset with him. Of course he had grits and a pot of coffee going. When I came out in Mom’s stained, light blue over alls, that were a little too big for me, Grandpa was making balonga sandwhiches with I guess mustard. I hate mustard, and balonga.

That little orange radio cramped on the counter was giving us the weather report of the day. “Today is quarter one of the moon, Danny you know what that means,” and my Granpa said it with him, “Neap tide.” I will come to find out that it means the tide isn’t as high because of the shape of the moon.

After he basically watched me force down grits without saying a word, he went through the back door of the kitchen, grabbed a pair of boots and threw them towards me. Diary, you won’t believe this but I put my foot inside and there was a living mouse, I heard a squeal and I screamed and threw the boot across the kitchen, against the wall. Grandpa came over to the boot, plopped the little mouse out and grabbed him by the tail. He dangled it in my face and was insulting me! “This little boy scared the sheet out of yah? Hell you probably scared him with that big ole striped foot of yours, you want him?” And with that he threw the mouse at me!

First off. Don’t make fun of my rainbow striped socks okay. Second. Animal abuse? But oddly enough I got to hear him laugh. I haven’t heard that before. It is so deep and loud, maybe even a little bit full of spit too.

We ended up leaving after that and it was about six AM I think. It was so dark, but I could see the sun leaking through the wooded pines. Riding in his old rickety Toyota truck, he pushed in a casset tape that played the Beatles. I am actually a huge fan of them! But I didn’t say anything. Maybe I should have? I was too mad at him for the rodent incident.

After some long twisting back roads from Grandpa’s house we eventually came out into a big lake like area, there was a peninsula in the middle with a road on it. The area had a bunch of mini buildings, wooden docks, and signs that said “charters” everywhere. There were tons of boats, most of them white of all shapes and sizes too. Some had cages on them, others had huge sails. It was pretty I will admit. I guess this is where the locals hangout on a Friday night. Boring. But there were so many people awake at that hour. Sunrise it was.

Anyway we get to the boat and it’s really not that big. It was parked at the end of s long rickety dock, but it was also parked near a small shack that said “charters.” But Grandpa’s boat was different than the other boats parked around it. His was super ugly compared to the other boats. Grandpa said hello to an older man sitting in the charter boat next to us. When the man asked who I was Grandpa explained that I was “Melissa’s daughter,” and the man told him he already knew that by the way I look. He wished us luck and called my Grandpa crazy for wanting to try to fish today. “All this for two fish, you should retire bud, come work the charters, make more money that way, get you a new boat,” this man told my Grandpa. And my Grandpa was too busy to care, with that he lit a cigaret and began to untie the boat from the docks. I will come to know all day that we can only catch and take home two halibut at a time.

Eventually he started the engine of his boat and it was so loud. It was near the back but I could see smoke rising from it and the smell of gasoline was in the air. It honestly made me feel really sick. I found s place to sit in the front, on the ground, which got my overalls a little wet. It was freezing as well, and all I had was mom’s over all’s and a pink longsleeved shirt I managed to find in the bottom of my bag. I forgot Alaskan summers are too cold for me, but I do like the little cold Seatle brings.

Now diary, I love Washington, the shores to the west, the beautiful pine trees, I mean I see them everyday. But Alaska is different. I smell the same scent in the air, but there were so many mountains with snow covered tops in the distance, and the shores are just sandy. And ugly. Not your typical “Cali beaches.” But really I kept my head down the whole time. Didn’t care what was around me.

Grandpa eventually stopped the boat after an hour or two. It took sooooo long and I was over it. I didn’t bother asking him when we would stop. After all today I was trapped on this boat, kind of like a prisoner.

Nah. Just being babysat again.

But I do wish I paid more attention because Grandpa got us to a place where if you kept on going, you would get lost. To the left of us was a sandy shore line. It was super flat and if you kept looking towards the land there was absolutely no sign of civilization, just trees, mountains, rocks, open sky. Stilness besides the gentle breeze. The other direction was pure ocean. No land.

Grandpa did a few things dropped what I guess was a few lines down into the ocean and went back to his rickety seat that was coming pretty lose. He yelled at me to get up and watch the lines. He told me if they “really moved” it’s worth it. Halibut was what he was after he told me, and those fish are at the bottom of the sea. Apparently they drag the line around or something. Grandpa fell asleep so I was really in charge.

All day I kept waking Grandpa up, but when he would tug on the line, or even pull it up, it wasn’t what he was looking for. We caught rockfish mostly and maybe one lingcod—super ugly fish. Grandpa made me unhook all of the fish, myself. I hated it. Fish are so slimey and smelly. I prefer them fried.

Well after the sun reached a little pass the center of the sky, my Grandpa decided it was time to head back “Damn tides,” he muttered. And we didn’t speak the whole ride home.

I don’t get why Grandpa only cares about halibut. What is so good about those fish anyway? Well he’s making me go back again tomorrow. Big woof. I’m tired of writing.

Goodnight diary.

**Days 6-10, Waxing Gibbous, halfway through the month, kind of. **

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You wouldn’t believe it. Grandpa is giving me a day off. Holy cow. I am so tired. But all in all diary, I could never be a fisherwoman. I couldn’t stand the silence so I started bringing my phone to take pictures of the scenery. Grandpa thinks I am addicted to my phone but really he never had a smart phone so he doesn’t get it. There’s so much he could do with one, maybe it would tell him to take a bath.

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I know I have been hating on Grandpa and I should stop, but he is just different. He’s a proud conservative man who seems happy despite doing the same thing everyday, staring at tight plastic lines, smelling the muggy sea water, waking up at the crack of dawn to listen to corny news anchors talk about the tides of the water. My Grandpa told me that the tides are higher today and to be ready for the fish tomorrow. But I have already seen all the fish, the same ones we have been catching over and over and releasing them over and over. He could make a living off of these little fish he catches. He could buy himself s pair of pants.

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But I am getting more comfortable with him. Some of our silent periods are still there in conversation, but two days ago I was able to tell him about my love for sixties music when he put on a “Creedence Clearwater Revival,” casset tape that morning. He told me mom loved that music and they used to dance to it all the time. We even talked about school for a little bit on the boat and I showed him a few pictures of my friends, which he cringed at. Not sure why.

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Sorry diary, mom called, checked in. She seemed busy and like she didn’t care very much. I told her I was having fun so she wouldn’t worry about me, but maybe she really doesn’t. You would have to care to worry. Anyway. Goodnight diary. Sweet dreams.

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**Day 11, Full Moon, Big Catch.**

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Dear Diary,

Today was….SPECTACULAR…even if I smell like fish. We caught a halibut! It was just s normal morning and my Grandpa was more giddy this morning. “High tide! Let’s get up and go!” I wasn’t really prepared, I wanted s day off. It was the same old routine. Sixties music, kicking the actual engine to start to boat, etc. Grandpa sometimes falls asleep on the boat I’ve noticed but today he didn’t do that. He was alert and stared at the lines constantly. Even if they tugged a bit he didn’t bother to pull them up, like I would have.

The water was a little bit rockier today. I also noticed the sandy beach wasn’t really noticeable today. We had about six poles sticking out of his ship. I was eating a nasty balonga sandwhich when he sprinted up to the second pole from the front of the boat. I mean he bolted. He removed the pole from the socket keeping it in place and began to real that sucker. He called me over to help and honestly I did not know what to do. I just pulled on the line in front of him and this was unlike the other fish. This fish wouldn’t let go, I was scared it would pull me into the water. “Steady, steady!” I thought we would lose it! Soon enough I was able to see the thing, it was HUGE! Gross, but one of the biggest fish I have ever seen! How did the line not snap?

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We soon pulled him together out the water and the thing flopped around on the boat like crazy. It was half my size, about 2 and a half feet long. As the fish was flopping around my Grandpa, panting rant over to me and gave me the biggest hug I have ever received in my entire life. I have known him forever but this was the first embrace I have ever gotten from him. “Alleluia we got it! We did it! This is a halibut!” I blushed. At the time I couldn’t beleive he even hugged me, but also that a creature like this even existed.

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But then the emotion was over because he told me to stand back and he whipped out a pistol and shot the sucker in the head. Before I could say anything, he claimed this was a “chicken” and some halibuts can be up to a hundred pounds. Considering our fish took up a third of our boat, I guess it was for our safety but I wasn’t expecting that.

With the dead fish in our boat, Grandpa decided that one was enough. He told me today we can only catch one and not two for some reason I cannot remember. We took it back to the dock and we got that Charter guy from earlier to skin it for us and bag it up. I didn’t really care about the smell of the fishy ziplock bags, I was actually very excited to try some. My Grandpa told me that I can fry it up at home and we could have it for dinner.

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And we did. We got home, used some beer actually to make beer battered fish, don’t tell Mom diary) and potatoes. It was really good! Grandpa had the radio on in the kitchen and was humming along to some familiar oldies too while we ate. We didn’t talk much, but the silence was…comfortable? There was a grin on his face that wasn’t there before, and honestly one on mine too. Maybe it was the full moon from today.

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I wish I could have taken a picture with my phone, but I didn’t need it for tonight. Over all great day. I wonder if I will catch any tomorrow. What would we even do with all of the frozen fish at that point? Who knows diary, who knows!

**Days 12-16, Waning Gibous, Living Large.**

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Dear Diary,

That full moon must have been luck for us. In these four days we caught three more halibut. One was way to small so we let it go. Grandpa didn’t end up keeping the other two for himself. He gave one to a neighbor and then another to a man who runs a food truck down the street from his boat dock—which apparently is not allowed because of some Alaskan law, but he didn’t seem to care.

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Grandpa started to talk to me a little more on the boat. He asked me about my books I was reading, what snap chat was, was I saving money, questions that a Grandpa should ask. When I was explaining my awesome sock collection he even laughed and said I was like my Mom, which was a huge shock for me.

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I don’t think I will ask about him and Mom’s fallouts, at least not yet.

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OH MY GOSH! I forgot to mention the whale we saw today. It jumped out of the water like a dolphin! It was so dope! It scared me at first but Grsndpa was there, he put a hand on my shoulder and grinned, “that’s called a whale screen-nager.”

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So insulting. I think I rolled my eyes at him.

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**Days 16-20, Last Quarter, Last Day.**

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Dear Diary,

Well tonight is my last night. Mom said she can take a week off work to spend time with me. She claims she has a surprise but it’s probably Disney or something stupid like that again. I admit I did cry a little when she called. I had been enjoying being with Grandpa. He said the tides are going down anyway so there might not be any halibut till next month. That didn’t stop me from wanting to stay.

My whole opinion on Grandpa changed. The man who was quiet and argumentative with my mother wasn’t the same lesson I know now. Sometimes people are misunderstood he one day told me on the boat when I was asking about the weird rednecks we saw on the docks earlier. And even though my last few days I caught those ugly rock fish, I won’t forget our first halibut.

I cannot wait to come back to Alaska. My tides have changed for my Grandpa, as they do for his fish.