Our blue fish died a couple of weeks ago. It was more disturbing really than sad to find it floating at the top of the fish tank. The other fish had eaten a significant amount of it. Disgusting, I know but that’s what fish do.
I spent a lot of time sitting here watching that crazy blue fish over the years. That was its unofficial name… Crazy Blue Fish. He was completely and totally obsessed with gathering rocks and building them up in the corner of his tank. One rock or two, he’d collect them in his mouth from one part of the tank and swim back to his corner to spit them out. Over and over, back and forth, day after day. He’d build his colossal rock mountain only for Dan to decide he was going to clean the tank. Vacuuming out the bottom of the tank with the hose, he’d level the rocks out again and make them even once more. I swear it drove Crazy Blue Fish even nuttier having to start all over again.
On really quiet mornings, I could hear the faintest tink as they fell. I’d sit on the couch drinking my coffee, watching him and waiting for inspiration. Almost hypnotically, I’d watch his fervent swimming and spitting until something to write about came to me or I ran out of time to write. I never realized how much I stared at that damn blue fish until I sat here, looking at the tank and realized it was completely devoid of inspiration without him. Yes, we still have fish but they’re just regular fish. They don’t do anything special.
Time marches on… I know. Life ebbs and flows, things change. It’s just a fish… I know.
I’m a big advocate of change. I rally for it and cheer for it. Chase after it and dream about it. I demand it from myself and plead for it from others. So how does it happen that I find myself in this place? A place that I’m mad at change. Actual scowl on my face, lump in my throat, hot tears on my cheeks upset. I don’t know.
I feel displaced. Disconnected and severed. I miss my people who I used to plod through life with. My own personal team Chris. The people who knew every embarrassing event that transpired in my days or the devils that haunt me at night. The people who knew me as well as I knew myself. Now… they’re busy plodding along without me and I guess I’ve been plodding along without them too.
Life is busy. We’re all chasing after life the best we know how. It’s just that I used to know who I was chasing it with and lately… I’m not sure. Like a kid who stayed too long at the park after everyone else went home, I feel a little lost and uncertain.
It’s easy to lose connections. It happens so quickly. But does it have to happen? Is there a way to stop relationships from eroding? Is it possible to maintain them throughout the years? I hope so. I really do. I hate to think of myself as that crazy blue fish, swimming around collecting rocks and naïvely thinking they won’t end up scattered.