A Fish Tale
I was so excited when we first looked at our house, before we bought it. One reason was because, in the backyard, just a few feet from the back door, was a fish pond. It didn't matter that it was square and painted bright blue; it didn't even matter that it no longer held water. It was there, filled with potential. One of my earliest memories of my grandparents' farm is of the fish pond in their yard. It was a small, shallow cement pond, an oval of maybe three feet by two feet, not more than ten inches deep in the center. That's where the tank goldfish lived in the summer, under the shade of a big old tree. I would sit there with Aunt Marilyn for long stretches of time, just watching the fish dart around the pond. We moved to Norfolk when I was almost five, and my grandparents, along with Marilyn, followed in just a few weeks. For the first time in their lives, Grandpa and Grandma had a beautiful, new house in town. Grandma soon ...