In Memory of Sammy

When I was 10 years old I had 3 goldfish that I bought for $0.05 each who lived for two years - quite a long life for a goldfish, especially since I didn't clean their bowl as often as I should have. When I was 2 years old we had an aquarium that I loved to watch. I decided one day that the fish looked thirsty, and gave them a cup of kool-aid. There were no survivors.
I don't think the fish-world really liked me, but things were different with Sammy. I cleaned his bowl regularly, meticulously measured his food, and even told him goodnight before going to bed. Yet Sammy was only with me for a month. They say when fish die, they turn belly-up. They actually just turn on their sides, and float at the top of the bowl. That's how we found Sammy this morning, and he was given a loving "burial at sea."
This may all sound a little silly to everyone, but Sammy meant a lot to me. He represented having something of my own that wasn't going to leave me or get taken away. I know, that's a lot of meaning for a fish, but when you don't have your own place, can't use any of your own things, can't have your own family, and your dog would rather be upstairs with grandma than with you, you'd probably give a lot of meaning to a fish who can't get out of his bowl and leave too.
Anyway, before you think I've gone off the deep end, I know Sammy was a fish, and fish die, and life goes on. I also know that I have so many things to be grateful for - a roof over my head, a husband who loves me, the medicine I need, a job I love (Special Ed., not Wal-Mart.), though I am grateful to be able to work at Wal-Mart because it's really not as bad as I make it out to be. Life isn't so bad even if it's not what I had expected.
I'll miss you Sammy. You made me happy, and you helped me work through a few issues that I would have rather ignored if given the chance. Thanks for the time we had.