For right now, I'll tell a little story about today.
|One very small part of the Coffey |
Park neighborhood, as of Monday
|This is the house: it was a beautiful|
neighborhood—and it's unbelievable what
a firestorm does to a neighborhood like this
As we worked, I kept thinking about the poor fish, and how he wouldn't survive very long in that wretched pool.
|This white, this orange|
(but not this pond)
As it turned out, while we were accomplishing this task, the owner of the house arrived and told us that everyone who lived there was fine. Wonderful news!
But . . . the owner might want Willie, right? So as he and a friend were surveying the former back yard, we approached, and showed him our catch. His face lit up. He said he'd caught three others, but this one had eluded him. He seemed truly delighted. It was like these fish were a continuity for him, a bridge between the past of that beautiful house, and whatever lay before him. The fish were life.
I suggested that he call the fish Phoenix. He seemed to like that idea. Especially since he's from Phoenix.
I think I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for little white-and-orange koi/goldfish now. Phoenix, swimming from the ashes.