|Fish = love. Fish love.|
Then the fish died. Er...I mean...took a nap. Because death triggers all sorts of trauma-related issues that we were not prepared to add to our already stressed situation. So I zoomed the sleeping fish to the pet store and got a replacement reddish, blueish fish along with about a gazillion water testing and treatment products to ensure the most optimal environment for Captain II. Crisis averted.
Until that fish also promptly died.
Seriously! "I cannot handle dead fish right now!" I
Captain III eventually moved from the vase to the fish tank (thoroughly cleaned and redecorated. We determined there was something wrong with the gravel in the original setup) and now to a tank with a built in vacuum that Grandma gave him for Christmas. Captain III celebrates his one-year anniversary with us this weekend. Just yesterday my son said, "Wow, I already had another birthday. Captain's lived a long time. I didn't think fish lived that long." He has no idea.
Captain III has seen my son through more transitions this year - from changing schools to the death of our old dog, Scout, to just this month a tragedy in the family of his beloved teacher necessitating a substitute for several weeks as well as the sudden illness of an indestructible friend.
Just this morning, as we fed Captain III a couple of Betta bites I marveled at the healing that has transpired this year, and how he has managed these current triggers with a sense of confidence that hints at a growing knowledge that no matter what happens in this world, he is loved.
So I nudged an extra Betta bite into the tank and thanked God for his healing power shown to us most graciously through the fish who lived.