Sea Biscuit and Day 5

I hope I didn’t harm Sea the other day when I cleaned the bowl. He seems spastic today. All the while I cleaned Jen’s kitchen, bedroom, and living room he kept circling the bowl, at times, even bashing his head against the side.
He seems hyper.
I wonder it it’s a he.
I wonder if he’s bored.
He doesn’t get out much.
Same scenery.
Every time I come into the room in between cleaning and packing, he comes to the side of the bowl I’m closest too.
I wished I hadn’t packed all the fake greenery lining Jen’s Coke-a-Cola bottles, I could have stuck some in the bowl for a little variety.
I’m sure he has a purpose. There must be an episode of Mr. Nye, the science guy, which examines why a gold fish was created. Maybe he eats his weight in mosquitoes every day. Wait, no that’s a hummingbird. But still…
Who does he trust?
More circling. Always circling.
He has his rules. He can’t just jump out of the bowl for a day trip or reunion with his mother. He seems oblivious while Ben, Annie and I settle in for the evening and turn on the Road Trip DVD.
Still swimming even after we’ve said goodnight.

I have a long travel day ahead of me tomorrow. As always, when I travel I step back and contemplate why I’m here…am I completing my purpose in life, or am I the one going around in circles? It’s odd that Sea Biscuit is so trapped and I am so free. When the DVD zoomed in on some Arizona ants scurrying about, it hit me.
We all have a job to do. Arizona ants, Sea Biscuit, and me.


While the city sleeps I begin my long travel day. I reprimand myself for booking the early flight. Sea Biscuit is finally still. I will put my trust in pilots, and airplane mechanics. I trust them to do their job. Just like the goldfish trusts in me to feed him, clean his cloudy bowl, and not deprive him of water for too long.

Maybe if nothing more, he was created for me. If God flung the planets in space and designed the whole scheme of things, can he not surely muster a goldfish to come across my path and teach me a lesson? To make me think. To remind me and tug at my ever-busy circling heart and squeeze out an abundant and heartfelt thank you.

And we’re off.
Crowded little monopoly houses soon give way to scattered farmhouses. I spy a farmer in almost every field. Then clouds. I pat myself on the back for taking the early flight.