There are children very much like carnival fish. Obtained as a means to hold together a relationship, for pride, by force, or by accident – they are more like discarded trophies than beating hearts. Each has their own set of torn threads and stained patches, each a personal set of eyes, averted in shame for their exposure. What makes an unwanted child any different than a carnival prize? Of course, please excuse me; this example is far too specific. Most prizes are very much wanted and hard earned. The vast majority, in fact, are placed on little shelves in little glass boxes and admired for years. How few carnival prizes are actually ever won? How many could possibly be discarded in dumps and landfills, hardly distinguishable from all the real trash out there. Didn’t watching Rudolph at Christmas teach you anything? Didn’t your mother explain the significance of The Island of Misfit Toys – that’s where all the unwanted things go! No one ever expects them to come back. Perhaps that is what happened to this fish. It isn’t being thrown away at all; it’s merely escaping from the island. So then, credit must be given where credit is due! This fish is not a victim of industry or human pride. This fish is a fighter. Those rips and stains are evidence of life, not ugliness or death. I should bring it some hot chocolate, like my father used to bring me, and it can tell me stories of all the places it has been and all the things it has done.
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