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August 9, 2024
Sublime rambling
By Vicki L. George
The Bandera Prophet
Rambling down memory lane again, I was reminded of an incident that occurred shortly after we moved to Texas. I was 6 years old. My brother was 4. We had recently moved into a house on Raleigh Street in Austin. And Mom wanted a pet.
She bought a goldfish and kept it in a bowl in the master bedroom. Us kids could look at it and watch it, but my brother was not allowed to do anything more. Occasionally, under Mom’s supervision, I was permitted to offer it some goldfish food.
Although Bubba and I usually took our naps in our shared bedroom, sometimes we got a little too rowdy together and Mom would separate us. One time, when she decided we needed separating, she told me I could sleep in her bed.
When she got me settled in, she left the room and went into the front part of the house. I laid there watching the fish swim round and round, working his little mouth constantly. It wasn’t long before I got out of the bed and stood leaning on the dresser to watch the fish more closely. I began to feel sorry for him, trapped in that little bowl, and thought he might like to take a nap, too. Maybe that would calm him down and he could rest. I thought it would be a good idea if he slept with me.
So, I stuck my hand in his bowl, caught him, and tried to get him ready for bed. I remembered watching Mom prepare for bed, putting on her cold cream and her hair net. I thought that’s the way grown up people got themselves ready to sleep.
I opened Mom’s jar of cold cream and slathered it all over that goldfish. Then I got Mom’s hairnet and wrapped him in it. Then I crawled back into the bed with my little pet and held him close so that we could sleep together.
I don’t remember if I actually dozed off or not. But I do remember my mother’s reaction when she came in to check on me. It didn’t take her long to notice the missing fish, the open jar of cold cream, and her favorite hairnet wrapped around what I was holding.
I give her credit. She didn’t freak out. She took the fish, now resting eternally, unwrapped him, said something about that being her favorite hairnet, and her very expensive cold cream, and explained to me that that poor little goldfish would never swim again and we had to dispose of his little body.
It was my first experience with death and, when I comprehended what that meant, I was devastated that I had killed the fish with the best of intentions.
A powerful lesson for a 6-year-old girl.
And Mom flushed him.
She bought a goldfish and kept it in a bowl in the master bedroom. Us kids could look at it and watch it, but my brother was not allowed to do anything more. Occasionally, under Mom’s supervision, I was permitted to offer it some goldfish food.
Although Bubba and I usually took our naps in our shared bedroom, sometimes we got a little too rowdy together and Mom would separate us. One time, when she decided we needed separating, she told me I could sleep in her bed.
When she got me settled in, she left the room and went into the front part of the house. I laid there watching the fish swim round and round, working his little mouth constantly. It wasn’t long before I got out of the bed and stood leaning on the dresser to watch the fish more closely. I began to feel sorry for him, trapped in that little bowl, and thought he might like to take a nap, too. Maybe that would calm him down and he could rest. I thought it would be a good idea if he slept with me.
So, I stuck my hand in his bowl, caught him, and tried to get him ready for bed. I remembered watching Mom prepare for bed, putting on her cold cream and her hair net. I thought that’s the way grown up people got themselves ready to sleep.
I opened Mom’s jar of cold cream and slathered it all over that goldfish. Then I got Mom’s hairnet and wrapped him in it. Then I crawled back into the bed with my little pet and held him close so that we could sleep together.
I don’t remember if I actually dozed off or not. But I do remember my mother’s reaction when she came in to check on me. It didn’t take her long to notice the missing fish, the open jar of cold cream, and her favorite hairnet wrapped around what I was holding.
I give her credit. She didn’t freak out. She took the fish, now resting eternally, unwrapped him, said something about that being her favorite hairnet, and her very expensive cold cream, and explained to me that that poor little goldfish would never swim again and we had to dispose of his little body.
It was my first experience with death and, when I comprehended what that meant, I was devastated that I had killed the fish with the best of intentions.
A powerful lesson for a 6-year-old girl.
And Mom flushed him.