If fishes could fly, I would chase them, catch ’em, and keep ’em in a cage under the desk lamp. Forever mine.
But they swim. In my ceiling.
One night I woke up to pee and found dad standing on my bed. Balanced on tiptoes at the edge of the mattress he reached up, opened his hand and a little goldfish flew by – its orange belly glowing in the dark. It rushed to join the others as they circled the ceiling.
I laughed. “Where’d you find ’em, dad?”
He got down and crossed his legs. “In the meadow behind the house. They were flying around in the jasmine bushes.” “Aren’t they perfect, Joshie!” he said and pointed up at a pair zigzagging through a net of stars on the ceiling.
“Look at them swim above your head. Little fishie in the sky. They’ll always be there to give you company,” he said and smiled at me. That smile is still warm in my memories – orange, like a firefly in the night.
“No way! That’s wild! I’ve seen no meadow behind the house,” I said giving him a push. “You’re lying, dad. Where’d you find ’em? For real.”
He fell down from the bed in an over-dramatic act. I laughed and bent over the edge of the bed.
“Stop it, dad! Tel… ”
He wasn’t there.
I remember when we caught flying fishes with my dad in the meadow behind the house that night.
I remember our laughter.
And I remember the nights I slept under the sky and watched his little fishies fly by. Forever mine. There they go…
One… Two… Three…
Hi guys! Been a long time. Hope everyone is doing good😊.
A dream. Feel free to tear the piece apart and point out my mistakes. I’d love to learn and improve.
Thanks for reading!
Also I updated the look of the blog. Please do check it out if you have time. Would love some feedback – both positive and negative.