The Pond

The boring beginning before everything gets interresting

He was seated on the edge of a rock previously warmed by the hot sun, now seeping through his overalls and heating his rear end. His feet dangled inches over the still water of the pond, that licked the base of his seat. In his hands, he held the soft end of a cat-tail he had plucked before sitting down. He plucked the soft seeds off the stem, gently squished them in his hands, and let them melt. He dropped them into the water below and watched them  dance elegantly in the air, before calmly landing on the water sending ripples in every way. Some of the seeds were quickly engulfed by the water thanks to the goldfish seeking an early morning snack, others drifted slowly on the water as if they were waiting for their turn to be pulled under.

The boy remembered the day him and his father had gone to buy the fish that currently swam in spirals just under his bare feet. It was quite the opposite of today, the thick warm air was cold and and sharp when inhaled. The warm feeling of sun rays hitting his skin were replaced by snowflakes gently falling onto the already packed snow laying peacefully on the ground. His father was convinced going to buy the fish would be the perfect excuse to get out of their well-lived house, that was slowly turning into something you would see on an episode of hoarders.

The boy had insisted that it was too cold out and that they had nowhere to keep the fish since the pond outside had had a thick sheet of ice laying on top of it for multiple weeks at this point, when in reality he couldn't care less about the fish he just wanted to play with the new toy gun he had gotten for Christmas.

"Well, we'll need to get 'em sometime anyway, why not get 'em in the middle of winter, when the damn suckers will be frozen solid and 50%," his father exclaimed before bursting into something that you could either consider laughing or coughing or maybe a bit of both. The boys' fathers thought he was funny, he wasn't. He tried his best to convince his father otherwise but he had been so cooped up in their musky old house, that he would use any excuse to leave for the day. The boy would have used any excuse possible to stay and play with his new gun, but hesitantly agreed also wanting to spend time with his father.

The boy and his old man got into the 1970 Ford escort sitting under a mountain of snow in their long and narrow driveway. His father twisted the keys in the ignition and the old car spat out a loud cough and a heap of exhaust fumes before starting to sing its familiar humming sound. The old man was already humming some ancient country song that was playing on the radio. The boy had always been impressed that his father seemed to know every country song in existence. The ride into the city was always awfully long to the boy, he was unsure if this was just due to his young age and odd perception of time or the terribly high number of awkward silences and his fathers bad signing.

Oddly enough the boy did not recall much of what happened after him and his father arrived at the pet store only that they returned home with goldfish (and a lot more awkward silences and bad signing) that the boy found awfully boring and plain compared to his new toy gun. He also remembered that the fish lived in an aquarium, that he thought was a terrible small size for 5 goldfish no matter how plain and boring they were. They lived there until early that spring when the pond had defrosted and him and his father sat and watched them swim for hours on end (or what felt like hours to the boy).

The boy had always thought the fish were dull and boring, but he never told his father that, even when they sat there and watched the fish together for hours. The boy had never really appreciated the way the sun reflected off the golden scales of the fish and almost formed sparkles under the water almost mimicking the glitter of the suns rays; or how soothing he found it when they elegantly parted the water, like the story he read about Moses in school, as they swam forward. That is not until now.

He grabbed another chunk of cat-tail and squished it harder than his earlier handful, before dropping the soft seeds down into the pond and watching them disappear once more as the fish nibbled on their delightful early morning snack.