55 Years Ago, My High Scho0l Friends and I Made a Promise to Meet Again at Our Lake. I Never Expected What I Found Waiting for Me…

A red fishing lure.

The bench was smaller than I remembered, its boards gray and weathered, but four initials were still carved into one end.

“H. T. R. N.”

I ran my thumb over them.

We had carved those initials there the night we graduated high school in 1970.