there was a time

There was a time when you’d walk around and explore with your mom. Before you had to go to school, before you were put inside to learn about everything out there. You’d arrive at the park and hop out of your stroller. You were in the world— at that point it was all still so new to you. It was time to explore, pick things up, make a mess. You’d stop for a snack, sit on your mom’s lap and share a sip of your juice box with her. The way the pigeon dunked its head in the fountain was the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. You don’t know why, you don’t even need a reason why. Your mom couldn’t help but laugh with you. Pure jubilation blankets the park. Enough for the business man to pick his head up from his phone, for one split second. Your mom didn’t want you to go too far. There was danger out there, and it’s not that she didn’t want you to see it, you would find it yourself, eventually. But on that day, she kept you close.

Another life, another fish

The dove arrived at the wire every morning before 8am to watch the fish swim. He never sat less than five wires from the bottom— he was too nervous the fish would spot him, and this might interrupt their morning dip. The dove loved the way the fish moved together in circles. He wondered if they had choreographed the moves beforehand, or if it was simply innate. The dove had never swam, well, not since that one dove had dunked his head in the bird bath three summers ago. That dove was such an asshole, but he didn’t have a very good home-life so he didn’t hold it against him.

Occasionally a fish would pop up to the top and take a peak at him (or so he thought). Either way, it felt nice to be seen. Once he ruffled his wings at the fish, but it went back under water. He hoped that the fish didn’t take it the wrong way. The dove smiled and imagined that he was underwater with the fish—laughing, joking, suggesting new formations to swim in… suddenly he heard a camera click go off behind him, which snapped him out of his daydream. The dove was shy, but not really around humans. He wondered what the photographer saw in him. Was it just another bird on the street? Or a dove with aquatic dreams? Perhaps he didn’t even saw him at all.

The dove sighed, and turned back to the river. The fish had already moved on, and as the dove felt a little wetness in his eyes, he thought to himself, next time, I’ll be a fish.