Tribute To My Friend and Fish

A week ago today, my fish died. Don't laugh. I know he's a fish. But he's not just a fish, okay? We've been through a lot together, and he's my every-other-day excuse to visit with Sheri, one of my dear friends. My fishy sat on her desk. He was mesmerizing to watch and had an ability to calm me down and make me pay attention to the life inside myself.

Originally, his name was Skelton, named after a girl on my sister's soccer team. The fish just looked like Marley Skelton for some reason. Don't tell her that I thought a goldfish resembled her... She doesn't look like a fish, the fist looked a bit like her. That's all. My fish's name was not approved by Sheri, however. She didn't like it. She said it sounded to much like skeleton and she kept calling him Skeletor, and I didn't like that.

I finally gave her permission to call him whatever she pleased, but to me, he was "Skelton."

So, Sheri did call him whatever she pleased. And what pleased her was to call him something different every day I came into the office to feed him. I started keeping track in my journal.

Prince Wilhem
squirt
Freddy Fish
George
Tom
Mr....ummm..... Fish (she was thinking hard for a Monday morning...)
Jo Jo
Sam
The Little Guy
The It (Just in case, "The Little Guy" from two days ago was actually a girl...)
Bob
Frederick Charles Alexander Bonifide Fish... (The Third - I added)

The fish was not the beginning of my friendship with Sheri, however, it was the beginning of feeling at home in it.

As a tribute to my fish, whatever God calls him, I have written about the first few days of our journey together, and how he ended up on Sheri's desk. Maybe then you might understand how I miss this fish. Over the years, he has connected Sheri and I in a way that can't be replaced:

Good morning Sheri! I say as I skip up to the reception desk in the Counseling Center with a bounce. I’m still trying to warm up so I bounce on my toes. I’m early enough to stop in. I will probably only be just a few minutes late to Geology 103 that starts at nine a.m. Not a big deal. When I got off of the bus this morning, I got a brilliant idea and I can’t help but see if it’s a possibility.

There is only one guy on the couch. He's tired-looking with dusty blonde hair and jeans. He doesn't look up from the screen of the I-pad.

Good morning, Jill! How are you this morning? asks Sheri.

I lean on the counter but hide my hands inside each other below it like I’m real nervous.

I’m doing pretty good, starting to get a little cold, but pretty good otherwise. You? I ask.

I’m doing well! I’m just so happy that the sun is out today! It’s supposed to be pretty warm this afternoon. What can I help you with? she asks. Her blonde hair seems to hum along by her jaw to her grandmother-like sing songy voice. She is the kind of person I could see on those commercials for pain relievers, allergy meds, and antidepressants – all older women that look so great for their ages out in the park running and playing in soft and blurry slow-motion with grandkids in fall leaves and summer grasses.

I don’t really have much time, but, I don’t know if this is even allowed or whatever, but I’m going to ask you anyway. I say. My eyebrows are raised and wrinkles between them pull at my ears.

Okay, go ahead, she says with a chuckle.

So, last night I went to meet up with several people from my stake back home at the Cougar-Eat. This lady came up to our crowded table and asked us if we wanted any of these goldfish in her arms. Since most of them were out-of-town, and the rest of us lived in dorms and we can’t have pets there, you know, we said sorry we can’t really take any fish right now. Well, Sheri, she just put four bowls of two goldfish each on the table and practically ran off! So one of my friends could have fish in her apartment so she took one bowl. The other three, Collin, took. But I knew for a fact that Collin lived in Wyview, where I live, where fish aren’t allowed. So I asked him what he was going to do with them. You wouldn’t believe it! He said he was just going to flush ‘em since no one else could take ‘em! So I snatched them and said I’ll take ‘em! and took them home with me even though I live with my best friend who is also the RA, I say.

Sheri looks right at me with wide eyes and a smile. She mirrors my excitement and then the disbelief that Collin would just flush the fish. I could talk to her all day.

Ooooh ha ha! And what did she say? Sheri asks.

I put my arms on the counter which is about chest height. My fingers hang over the side and dust the top of her computer.

Well I walked in with three bowls and six goldfish and she just looked at me like this, I say and raise my eyebrows real high, smile a cheesy and nervous smile, and cock and swivel my head just a bit.
Sheri chuckles and puts her elbow on her desk, cups her jaw with her hand, and rests her smile gazing up at mine. I continue.

I told her that I would keep them outside by my window. I promised, I will find them a home first thing in the morning! But it was so cold, so I asked if they could just stay inside one night. She said, "well I can’t say yes, but if they just disappear into a closet or something, then what can I do?" So, the fish spent the night on my desk last night. Then as I got off the bus in the morning and walked by the Counseling Office, I just got this idea and I was wondering if the fish could find a home here, I say.

Sheri’s face goes serious in a playful way. She puts her pointer finger up in the air to cue that I must wait. She scoots back in her cushy wheelie chair, leans down, and disappears under her desk. There is the sound of grocery bags and of the ring on her finger hitting something hard. She reappears and removes a grocery bag from the bulky object she has in her hands. She sets it down on her desk with a final clang.

There, in front of her, is a large, empty, clear fish bowl. She places an elbow on each side of it, centers her still-serious face above it, and weaves her fingers together under her chin.

I think that can be arranged, she says. She leans her head toward mine and lifts her shoulders. Her hair bounces on them. Then finally, she smiles so big that her eyes, the color of the sky, get lost in her sunshine and turn into crescents. She nods and snickers.

She repeats her answer again with the sound of her smile, almost as if she were answering my thoughts.

I think that can be arranged.