Rip-Tide

Francis walks the short distance from his office to the city aquarium. He used to take his lunch there, but over the years his visits became less and less, as he has less and less time to spend. At least that is the way he feels. He remembers the sense of awe and splendor he had as a child, peering through the glass watching the tropical fish dart about. But, that was a long time ago and he is older now.

He sits on the bench in front of the reef exhibit. A curator guides a tour and speaks to them, “And this is the ‘Fish’ Exhibit, named after the late Marty ‘Fish’ Fischer. He was a generous donor to marine life conservation who passed last year after saving a drowning child.”

Francis sighs deeply and stares through the glass. His mind swims in his thoughts. The wonder and awe he had as a child is gone; the flame that burned inside him is mere embers and growing colder with each passing day. He is a young man respectively with a long life ahead of him, but “is the rest of my life worth living?” He wonders. He came to the aquarium to find something that would stir the embers of his squandered youth, but only found the cold blue behind the glass.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” comes a voice. Francis looks to find a weathered skinned man standing next to him. Francis looks at the man, then at the fish. He had been so busy staring into the deep blue water that he had not noticed the fish in front of him. “Don’t mean to disturb you, but would you mind sharing your seat with an old man?”

“Yes, of course. I-I was just leaving,” Francis moves his coat aside.

“Nonsense, please stay. Quiet company is still company all the same.” The old man sits and rests his cane across his lap.

The two sit for a time, before the stranger breaks the silence by using his cane to point out fish as they swim among the coral. “That one there is a Maroon Clown Fish. And that one is a Yellow Tang. Oh, and that one is a Longhorn Cow Fish, one of my favorites.” Francis looks on at his aging counter part, and sees the love of life in his eyes. The old man’s smile beams, his eyes twinkle in the blue light. “I’m sorry, I said that I would sit in silence, but I do love seeing their vibrant colors shooting about.”

“It’s alright. . . I don’t mind,” Francis says somberly, “I honestly didn’t see them until you pointed them out. . .”

“Sounds to me like your mind is swimming in dark waters, young man.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“David Foster Wallace once joked: ‘there are two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, ‘Morning, boys. How’s the water?’ And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, ‘what the hell is water?’”

Francis laughs.

“So, how is the water?” The old man asks.

Francis’ laugh fades, “I feel as if I am caught in a rip-tide, being taken further out to sea. The more I fight, the further out it takes me. . .” He trails off, “And, I’m just getting tired now.”

The old man nods, “but, you are still swimming aren’t you?”

“I am. . . But, I don’t know for how much longer.”

“Is there something on the shore worth swimming back to?”

“I was hoping to find that here. . .”

“And, what have you found?”

“Wishful thinking mostly. . . I wish that I had done more with my time. I wish I had more time to do what I wanted to do. . .”

“Time - the thing we want more of, but can’t get. We spend all our time making money, and no time to spend doing what we want. Tell me, what would you do if you had the time?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. . . Even if I did, I don’t see the point, even on a good day. I feel like one of these fish, stuck behind a shield of glass watching the rest of the world go by without me. . . Drowning.”

“Fish don’t drown, my friend. And, you can swim out of a rip-tide. You just have to make a choice: swim left or right, drowning is not an option. It is unfortunate that we do not get to choose to come into existence, but we exist whether we like it or not, that is out of our control. But, what is in our control is what we choose to do with this thing called – Life.

Life can be perilous like the rip-tide, but that is the beauty of it. If you don’t like the direction you are going, all you have to do is go left or right. I cannot tell you which way to swim, but what I can tell you is that, I have sailed and swam in every body of water, even the ocean of sadness and despair, but the winds of change will blow and you will set sail toward the horizon. Take it from an old man, life does not get easier, but you will find things that make it worth living. And when you find them, devote yourself to it.”

Francis feels the embers inside him ignite with vigor. The old man stands; Francis stands with him. “Thank you for the advice; I’m sorry I never asked your name.”

The old man laughs, “Marty Fischer, but everyone just calls me Fish.” The two shake hands. Francis feels a light tap on his shoulder; he turns to face a curator.

“Sir, the aquarium is closing for the night,” says the curator.

“The night?”

“Yes, sir. You’ve been here since noon staring at the reef. For a bit I thought I could hear you talking to someone. If someone is with you, I ask that they accompany us to the exit.”

“Yes, of course. Marty we need to. . .” Francis turns to Marty, but the old man is gone. Light reflects off a plaque on the bench – In Memory of Marty “Fish” Fischer our Lifeguard.