Fish in store

I’m still on my Necessary Road Trip which I’m trying to make  into a “Culinary Road Trip” although I don’t have much appetite yet.    I’m a  bit emotional, still, because July 31st is still very much with me.  That is the date of Hubbie’s birthday.

(See November 2010 archives for his . . . ending.)

Son and Daughter share the same vague wordless unutterable sense of loss.    We do something for Hubbie on the date of his birthday each year.   You see, he loved our back yard pond and could always find something  in it to keep him busy.   Each year he added goldfish to the pond;  it’s a rather large pond so it was always fun to watch the tiny little fish explore what must seem like a vast new world.  Each Spring we eagerly look forward to the Count —  how many goldfish made it through the harsh winter!



So a couple days ago we went to our local pet store and chose a number of little goldfish,  the number that would match Hubbie’s age.

Then we  opened their little plastic “cocoon”   and got them used to the pond water for a while –  not exactly as clean as the pet store kept them,  but rich in food and whatever else goldfish like to swim in.  They always seem to thrive in the pond water.



We hold our breaths as the first most daring fish swim out of their bucket  —


It matters.    It’s for Hubbie.    We need this to be a success.

Eventually they all begin to swim out –



All done.   Many scattered far out in the pond.     Joyfully,  I like to think.   A few clung close to the shorelineSAMSUNG

Just like people.

Adventurous.     Home loving.

Eager to explore.   Content to stay close to familiar things.

Open to new ideas.    Comfortable with deeply experiencing  what you already know.


The pond is big enough for all the fish to be happy.    They’ll have all kinds of new neighbors:   other fish we don’t know the names of,  frogs,  snapping turtles, and – unfortunately –  the kingfishers and the blue herons.

“Meet some new neighbors-to-be”:


Know what this gloopy mess is?     Son poked  a stick into something interesting in  the weeds and came up with this jellied sticky stuff – looking a bit like green tapioca pudding!      (Sorry if you like tapioca pudding. . . .)      It’s frog eggs!   Many, many more frogs to come.    Night concerts!

Hubbie would have liked that.    His memory lives on, partially, now in all our new baby goldfish.   We’re going to care what happens to each one of them.


Explore posts in the same categories: Death, Remembering Hubbie

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