The Awakening

The AWAKENING

by Michelle Wenis

 

It was flopping next to me, as I lay with my legs up on the kitchen floor.  I don’t know how I missed him.  A fighting fish, blue, red, flailing about.  I jumped to my feet and, among the dirty pile of dishes, found a small fish bowl, filled already with murky water, on the counter.

 

I needed to save this fish and get him in there quickly.  Never mind, the bits and pieces of unidentifiable I don’t know what, within.

 

I managed to plop him into the bowl of water.  

 

But he wouldn’t have it.

 

He flailed.

 

He fought to jump back out.

 

I was startled by the force with which he exerted himself.

 

He took great effort  to rise up and through the surface and almost managed to jump out of the bowl.

 

Instinctively, I sealed the top with my hand.

 

I moved quickly.  Single minded.  

 

Save this fish.

 

Less water.

 

He needs less water.

 

He won’t be able to reach the top, won’t manage an escape, but how to drain the bowl some, without his soaring out?

 

I covered the bowl tighter still.  He tried to push through my hand.

 

I poured some of the water out, precariously, barely keeping his head from bringing the rest of his body through where the water poured out.  I could see his fish lips emerging between my hand and the space to the glass.

 

He continued to struggle.

 

He fought harder still.

 

He pushed up, a warrior, into my hand.

 

He bit me.  

 

I turned my hand over and looked in surprise at the cut.  In so doing, I glanced at him and saw a sorry site.  He had turned pale white, almost translucent.  He was fighting to the death.  His glorious blue fins had fallen off, floating sadly in the water, his tail was clear off from him, yet he continued to flail up and down.

 

I accepted, finally, this fish out of water was going to die if he remained contained.

 

I sealed the top again with my bare hand and ran, quickly, as he muscled into my hand, time of the essence.  As I stepped faster still towards the door, he fought relentlessly, pushing into my hand.  I was breathless.

 

I made it outside.

 

There was grass.  Sand.

 

Where and how was I to rescue a fish out of water?  

 

It made zero sense but I had to let him go.

 

I laid him down.

 

He started to bounce up and down on the grass.  He made his way to another part of the immediate area and covered himself in sand.  He then shook it off, like a happy wet lab who just came in from a joyous romp in the river.

 

He emerged from that crumbly, sandy dirt more colorful, his fins and tail more brilliant & well beyond intact.

 

His colors were radiant.  Luminescent.  Moreso than before.

 

He was, finally, allowed outside his element… in a jungle of grass, sand, none of it made sense to me.

 

Only one thing was certain.

 

He was more alive than ever.

 

He was free.