It is a different Christmas in our house this year. We don't have the usual drive half way around the world and back, twice in 2 day plans that we usually have. I am not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed, and since it is my choice to make, I guess I'll pick relieved.
This has been a harder than usual year, and only now am I getting it into some kind of perspective. There is nothing like seeing some of your friends dealing with really big stuff, to realize how manageable yours is. Things around here are hunky-dory.
Now what does this have to do with dead fish, you're wondering? Nothing.
I kill fish, actually I kill most living things in my care. I don't do this on purpose, but the results are the same. As far as fish go, we have been through, Shaggy, Elvis, Jethro, Poncho, Sombrero, Troy, Gabriella, Zach, Kevin 1 and Kevin 2, and Bubbles 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6. To say I kill fish is a bit of an understatement. My intentions have always been good, and it actually hurts my feelings that it has become a running joke in my house. So far, the turtle has proven himself indestructible.
It isn't just fish that I kill either, plants are not immune to my death touch. I am so bad with plants that I am surprised when I walk by them if they don't start turning brown. I have an aunt that buys my kids and myself plants, and other growing things for birthdays and holidays (herb gardens, fruit trees, vegetable gardens, etc.), and they all wind up as buckets of dirt. Every time one of these gifts makes it in to the house, my husband always says, "It's like they don't even know you." or "Do they think they can change you?". My grandmother(Nana), my mom and all of her sisters, could grow a jungle on a rock with no soil or water, but the only thing I can grow is mold in my refrigerator. Really, my kids should be grateful that they've made it this far.
I have no reason for telling you this, but I needed some sort of lead in for this poem that Katie wrote that I am about to post.
My Fish
by Katie Hoye
I wish
my fish could fly
I don't
want it to die
Then I would cry
because
my fish would be dead
and I would be alive
My fish
is named Joe
He likes the snow
Joe plays with hobos
His best friends name is Romo
Joe and Romo jump off a cliff
Do you know what happens after this?
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