My Terrific and Terrible Day.

After five hours of sleep, I woke to the sound of my fish tank filter running too loudly and it set off an alarm in my head. After five and a half years of raising my cichlids, I knew what every sound meant. This one meant the water was much lower than when I went to sleep. 

I shot up out of bed and grabbed for the draping below the stand, immediately feeling the wetness, hearing the drip in the buckets below.

The tank was leaking.

After hitting my light switch, I searched the sides and top to see they were dry,  placing buckets under the drips. Because I'm not a total dipshit, I didn't look under the tank. If there was a crack, the glass could burst into my head. Instead, I switched the overhead light of the tank on and pushed aside the gravel to look for cracks. None. So the problem was the middle seal.

I tried to keep the fish in the tank for as long as I could, taking out the rocks and decorations. Around 8 AM, I had to remove the fish into the biggest bucket I had and monitor the temperature. The fish store didn't open until noon and I would be at work, covering for my sister who is recovering from one of many surgeries that saved her finger after a cottonmouth bite. She agreed to check on them and call the fish store.

They were dead before it even opened.

Cichlids, as I've learned over the years, can easily die from shock and stress. Even for a few short hours, they couldn't handle the departure of their tank. I was able to save the algae eater and I gave him to Aquatics and Exotics. He'll have a great life with them or wherever home he goes to.

I'm upset, of course, but after six hours of bailing 55 gallons of water down a flight of stairs one two-gallon bucket at a time, I had to go to work.

It was busy and nonstop but I was more confident. One man stopped me to show me a picture of his adorable grandson and tell me the story of how he was able to get a signed basketball for the boy, who loves basketball. I wasn't aware of how an apron makes some people open up to you like an old friend, but I better understand why they say it's a job that feeds writers. People sometimes see you running ragged and use their grace as a customer to give you an excuse to take a break. Now, the shitheads also use this to hold you hostage but I haven't dealt with anyone that bad yet.

After work put me to the grindstone, I stepped outside to a beautiful sunny day. I laughed and talked with my cousin and aunt, knowing I had music to face at home. I took the bucket of dead fish and emptied them behind the shed, gave them back to the earth. It seemed a more glorious end than a garbage bag in the trash or a trip down the toilet. I cleaned out the filter and scooped the gravel into buckets. A friend of my sister is taking the tank and stand. The rest of it I'm giving to friends. Selling off that which remains seemed too cheap so I only asked them to pay what they would or could. 

I also received about $65 in gift cards doing surveys over the past few months. I met my goal for getting that digital display drawing tablet. So among hard work, heartache and the people who bring joy into my life, what could have been a terrible day was still a victory.

I've loved and lost and still received. I've given of myself and it wasn't one-sided. 

I'll miss my fish. That will hit harder when I'm not so numbingly tired. Pinkie was my six year old fatty and I know I did all I could for them. I knew the hobby was getting too expensive for me and I would have liked to re-home them. Life has other ideas. Death has a few more.

I'm glad I work tomorrow because I truly need to keep moving through the sadness. Those fish got me through tough times. I didn't know I was ready to say goodbye to them until I had no choice. They gave me so much as a writer and an artist.

My fish mama days are over. I won't be getting fish again unless I have more room, more equipment, more preparation. It's a lot of work, a lot of stress when they're unwell, a lot of money. I adored them but I won't take on that kind of responsibility without being prepared for everything. 

It's why I never wanted children. I love them and they love me, but my body, mind and resources mean that I would not subject a life to being an accident. I stepped up for my nephews and became a parent and it only made me more sure that you can't love or reproduce or step up to be a parent half-heartedly. Life deserves better. 

I won't beat myself up about my fish. I know I did all I could with what I had in that moment. I don't play woulda coulda shoulda. I was great at caring for them. It wasn't enough. It's time to move on without them.