My aunt came by today to drop off some additional fish for my tank. Amongst the school of fish, one was a baby who perhaps accidentally got netted out from its original home. Sitting in front of the tank staring into their new world, I couldn't let my eyes off on this particular creature. Unlike the other sprightly larger and older fish, the baby was so cute and teeny. If you are not paying attention, you would think it's a piece of a floating poop. Marveled at my unexpected addition, I decided to follow this cutie pie's tracks. I wondered where this baby was going and what it was thinking because it seemed lost and frightened, perhaps pondering where its siblings were. Worried because the baby isolated itself from others swimming cautiously throughout, I wondered whether this baby would even survive in its new home. How would this baby even fight for food during meal time?! But how marvelous, I thought, that even a fish has its own journeys and destiny. For instance, I presupposed this baby fish had been born into what I called a low-middle class because its home is of a moderate sized fish tank. If it were wealthy, the fish would probably be in the ocean filled with endless possibilities. However, this baby is now in my tank and will at least be loved, fed, and safe. This baby fish was also fated to travel abroad very early in its life. This morning the cutie left birth home Brooklyn and moved to new home Manhattan. Translated in the human world, it's like saying the fish had traveled from birth place Canada to residential NY. And now fated to be in its new world and separated from its identical siblings, this baby fish must venture on in its new journey. I guess the life of a fish is really not that different from us.
Separated from the school of fish on the other side of the diaphanous tank divider is my longtime gobbling goldfish. I think of this fish as an old, grumpy, and gluttonous bully who managed to outlive his peers for several years. He had the whole tank all to himself for at least three years until few months ago when we adopted some fish from my aunt. Ever since his neighbors moved in, I see him ramming his big fat lips against the divider, hoping to magically navigate to the other side. Fortunately as advertised, the divider works wonderfully separating my clueless fish from harming the smaller ones by a clear screen with tiny pores that allow unrestricted filtration. After a few minutes, and seeing that my tank could use more water, I went to the kitchen and came back with a bucket of water to fill up the tank. After filling up to a level of my satisfaction, I glanced one last time at my beautiful water world. Then I noticed a strange moving poop in my goldfish's domain. Wait, it's not a poop but that baby fish!! How did it get to the other side?! Does it not know it had traversed to a dangerous place?! Swim back from where you came from!! And then, to my horror, that big fat blob opened it's annoying large mouth and gulped the victim. I was beyond mortified. Standing speechless, I couldn't believe what I had just witnessed. I felt dumbfounded and guilty for I could have perhaps prevented this outcome. Instantly, I should have pounded my fist against the window to scare off that bully and then quickly net out the baby. But I wasted on those seconds hailing the fish's dexterousness of slipping through the other side and searching for clues on how the fish swam through. And a part of me naively thought big goldie would not possibly eat the fish. Not my goldie. But was I wrong and now too late. The baby fish had journey its way from Brooklyn to be sacrificed as a snack and laid to rest in goldie's belly. I'm saddened but I guess it holds true in general to all aspects in life, sometimes a journey can be long and sometimes brief. The life of this baby fish abruptly came to a halt but at least it had traveled, explored, and me to write about it.