Laney held the rust-colored rails and stood mesmerized by the sight of orange-colored salmon pointed upstream, facing the current and waiting. One broke from the group and leapt forward. Stillness settled over the fish for several seconds until another one leapt. Laney counted by ones and stopped at seventeen. She counted by twos but couldn't calculate the number.
The fish were side-by-side-by-side, tails wriggling. A duck paddled by poking its beak in the stream.
"He's looking for the salmon eggs." Laney's grandmother spoke in a hushed yet excited voice like she was a child stumbling upon the scene for the first time.
"To eat them?" The duck's feet made Laney chuckle but the idea that it would peak its beak into the water and gobble the babies made her shiver.
"Yes."
The fish looked alike with the only differences being that some had a few more dark spots than the others. Laney gripped the railings on the bridge. "How do they find each other?" How terrible it would be to sit in a crowd where almost every one looked the same. Salmon tails moved from one side to the other, but otherwise the fish remained nearly still.
"What do you mean?"
"The moms and dads."
Nana fell silent and looked into the water like she was closely following the fish. "Somehow the fish know. And God knows."
He knows a lot. Nana was always explaining how much God knows and understands. "Does He help the moms and dads find each other?" A current of worry shot through Laney, the result of imagining two people fighting to find each other in a crowd.
"I'm sure He does. The salmon do this every two to three years."
"Swim up the stream?"
"Yes. They swim all over Lake Tahoe and then at the right time find the opening to the creek and swim and swim so they can lay their eggs. That's how God has made them."
"And then what happens? After they lay their eggs?"
"The moms and dads die and the babies are born and they swim back into the lake, and they grow up to become new moms and dads."
"And they swim back up the creek?"
"Eventually, yes."
The conversation was interrupted by Laney's grandfather standing on the opposite of the bridge looking downstream. "Hey, look over here." There was a plop and another plop like pebbles being dropped. The fish were more active a ways below the bridge. Two and three at a time leaped out of the water and up the stream.
Laney and Nana turned and stood by Gee-pa as she called him. "Do the babies get sad?"
"What do you mean?" Nana laid a hand on Laney's shoulder and guided her to view downstream.
"If their moms and dads die and they have to swim back out to the lake by themselves, do they get sad and miss their moms and dads?"
Gee-pa laughed. "I doubt it. The babies get a chance to play." He glanced at Laney. "Fish don't have feelings like that."
How can fish not have feelings like that? Light filtered through the golden leaves on the tree branches hanging over the water. Men and women walked past. Other children who looked like Laney's age laughed and pointed at the fish. Some people spoke English but she couldn't understand others. The people looked different. The fish looked alike. People had feelings.
"Come on, let's go." Gee-pa pulled away from the railing and led the way on the path that wound through evergreen trees and the brightly colored autumn leaves.
