The boat slid into the water, floating high and quietly cut through the water on the way to pulling the leash tight.  I moved it over to the dock and secured it, parked the truck and began to go over my tackle for the day.  Right on time, John drove into the parking lot with the same look of anticipation worn obviously on his face as most of the other customers that passed across my bow.  I watched as he quickly parked, grabbed his lunch and headed my way.  Slowly, I noticed that something wasn’t exactly normal about John.  He carried everything bunched in his right hand and as he got closer I could clearly see that either his left arm was missing entirely or partially.

With a big smile and an awkward drop of his lunch in the boat, John grabbed my hand firmly and said “I have been waiting for this for a long time.” As he situated himself in the boat I could see that his left hand was undeveloped.  I had seen this many times before and had learned that tens of thousands of babies were born with this condition due to a drug called Thalidomide that was originally prescribed for morning sickness.  Unknowingly, women ingested this drug and inadvertently caused this condition. 
For many years I never booked a half day.  I felt as though my customers deserved my full attention and would fish late if necessary.  Pulling someone off of an amazing situation to have to return to the dock by a certain time was unthinkable but for some reason, I found myself having to explain to John that we would have to be back at 12 sharp.

As the skiff reached plane and we began skipping across the glassy water on the way to the west, I calculated that the gently East wind matched up nicely with the incoming tide we would find on the Oceanside and the morning sun would be conveniently at our back.  Conditions like these are a fishing guides dream because the fish will be plentiful and the work would be easy.  Even though the physical work may have looked promising, I could not shake the fact that I had an angler with a serious physical impairment and I thought hard about how I could help him accomplish his goal of catching a bonefish, permit, or tarpon in a short half day.
With the tide rising quickly, I began a gentle turn toward the Oceanside flats known as the Tower Flat.  John never missed a beat and as we glided to a stop he was already on his feet in anticipation of the next move. 
“What will we see here?” he asked in a whisper, even though it was unnecessary.
“Permit” I replied in the same soft whisper he used to placate his sense of stealth.

I grabbed a spinning rod and carefully began to drill a hole with the sharp hook through the 2 ½ inch wide live blue crab that was chosen from a tank at the marina.  The hook strategically penetrated the far edge of the crab not damaging the organs keeping the crab alive and kicking.
Keeping a close eye on John, I handed him the rod and jumped up on the tower and began pushing the boat slowly down the flat.  With one powerful right hand from a lifetime of compensating for his left, John made a practice cast that was obviously on target with total confidence.  He then held the rod tightly with his right hand and pushed the reel handle to his undeveloped limb and was able to bring the crab back to him by keeping the reek handle stationary and moving the rod around it.  He did this is practiced precision and again, I smiled deeply and looked hard for fish.

Conversation began slowly but matured into a good natured recall of John’s background and how he came to love fishing.  From a childhood of fishing with his Dad, John came to love the sport of fishing and never let his physical abnormality hinder his desire.  As with many clients, John bragged about fish he had caught and lamented over the “white whales” that remained elusive. 
After about an hour of poling, it seemed that the permit may be another “white whale” in his fishing career, but he took it all in stride just as he had all his life.  Remaining attentive through the dry spells, we were both peering hard into the water to spot a black crescent shaped fin from any distance.

Finally, I saw what I had been looking for.  A puff of mud to the left of the bow signaled to me that I should slow my progress and look more intently.  Just ahead, another mud spot dissolved into the crystal clear Florida Keys water and directed me further ahead of the boat.  One more mud at 150 feet away focused my attention on a smaller area and then the shape of the fish we were after materialized and I began to call out directions to John.

Quickly spotting the fish, John laid a perfect cast in front of it and listened carefully as I coached him to the next move.
“Reel it to him, gently….now let it drop” I whispered as the crab drew into range for the permit to see it. 
As if on cue the permit turned toward the crab, tailed aggressively and ate it.  John was hooked to the fish of his lifetime.
The fish blistered out 100 yards of line and turned on its side as the strong arm worked its way around the undeveloped one.  Regardless of how fast the fish returned to the boat, John was able to keep the line tight as if he had no disability.  I was proud of him and his ability to get past obstacles.  I pulled hard on the pole with both of my arms and found myself thanking God that I was healthy.
The permit fought well, but came quickly to the boat.  Everything seemed completely normal.

As the fish tired and swam in range, I reached out my right arm and caught the fish above the widely splayed tail and yanked it from the water.  Laughter and signs of happiness were expressed by both guide and angler and a high five to the strong right hand sealed the celebration.  I kneeled by the fish and began to remove the hook buried in the corner of it’s mouth.
“That is strange” John said as he pointed to the fish’s tail and drew my attention away from the mouth.  I looked at the tail and was completely blown away to see that the permit had a withered or undeveloped upper lobe on its caudal or tail fin.  The fin was almost a mirror image of John’s deformity.  The fish shown brilliant in the sun and was strong and healthy in my grasp however, its tail was obviously deformed. 

“Have you ever seen one like that before?” he asked. With the fear of God in my heart, I said “Oh yea, I see them like that all the time” while looking for the bolt from the blue that was definitely coming to strike me down.  This had to be some kind of sign.  Struggling to make something of it in my head, I fought to make little of it in front of John. 

I had never seen a fish that even remotely resembled this one.  The fin was undeveloped and withered away, exactly like John’s left arm.  Despite this abnormality, this permit was living perfectly well and had learned to deal with its deficiency. 
At 24 pounds, this permit had defied all odds of reaching maturity with a deformity.  Sharks prowl these waters looking for a fish with any weakness and pounce at every opportunity.  This permit had defied everything until the day that the one guy in Key West with an undeveloped arm came caught him.  I had put these two together.

Slipping through my fingers, I felt the unfamiliar texture of the withered fin as I let him go.
Visibly shaken, I put another crab on John’s hook and began to pole down the flat.  I was sure that catching another fish would be the answer to rid the thoughts of destiny and meaning from my mind.  I looked hard for a fish but it the flat remained vacant for some time.

A tail pierced the surface of the water at a great distance and I began to pole hard towards it.  Closer and closer I crept and got John within sight of the fish.  Another beautiful cast landed in front of this fish and it came and gobbled our bait immediately.  Again, we had hooked into a permit.
“Whoo-who!” exclaimed John as he wound the rod around the reel with his dominant arm.
As a guide, the joy that your customer is feeling is transferred to you.  The feeling is like the first time I caught a permit, excited, overwhelmed, amazed.  The transference of emotion is one of the most rewarding aspects of guiding.
With hearts pounding, three of us anticipated the landing of the second permit of the day which was coming just minutes before we needed to head back to the dock.  A quick snatch of the tail brought this fish, exactly the same size as the last into the boat and a celebration quickly began.

I embraced the fish and then handed it to John.  He held it like a piece of gold and as the water glistened off its shiny scales, I watched as water ran down the fish’s body towards its tail.  I followed the water as it ran off the end of the malformed lower lobe of the tail fin.
Two fish with mirror image deformities were caught, one with the upper lobe deformed and the second with the lower lobe undeveloped. 

Of all the permit I have ever seen and caught I have never seen this again.  Why now would I catch two in one day with John on board?  This is a question that haunts me daily as I wonder what meaning these signs had toward my life or John’s.
I did not say anything about the fish nor did John.  We both looked at each other and held the stare for a few seconds longer than comfortable.  John stuck out his left hand and said “Thank You”.  I took his undeveloped limb in my left hand and noticed that it was almost exactly the same size as the malformed permit tail.
“You’re Welcome.”