Everyone Needs a Coming of Age Story

There was a time when the earth was new. The air had a sparkle to it, and the waters ran fresh and clear through golden rocks.  The mountain tops glistened with snow and ice; the valleys were green and verdant.  A great river flowed from the mountains, through the valleys, and on to the ocean. On its way it turned and bent itself around rocky outcrops. One such bend became a deep pool where the water calmed, its flow slowed by a partial dam of rocks. In this pool lived Fish.

Fish was a solitary creature.  He spent his days lazily drifting through the rippling water, nibbling grubs and worms that fell in and the occasional insect that fluttered on top. The surface was dappled by sun and dimpled by rain. Weeds swayed in the current; little creatures scuttled across the sandy floor. There was always something to watch and contemplate over.

There were occasional visits by travelers, and small groups of eggs that hatched and became little fingerlings. But all of them left, following some urge that Fish didn’t feel or even understand. And so he ignored others who looked like him and was vaguely pleased when they left.

One day, as he nosed at a little crawdad to make it scuttle in search of a hiding place, he felt a disturbance in the water. That usually indicated visitors, but this time it seemed stronger and more insistent. And there was a strange scent, a wild salty scent that made him feel unsettled and, well, tingly, and even a little excited.  Something was happening inside him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

The disturbance grew stronger and there they were, large silvery shapes moving up the river. Most ignored the pool and pushed against the current until they were out of Fish’s view. But two slowed down and entered the pool. They looked curiously at Fish.

“Are you here alone?” one asked.  “Did you come up with an earlier group?”

“No,” Fish said. He wasn’t used to talking; most visitors left him alone. “I’ve always been here.”

“You’ve never left this pool? In your entire life?” The visitor sounded incredulous. “You’ve never seen the ocean, never tumbled in the waves, never felt the salt through your gills?”

Fish stared at her. He really didn’t know what to say.

Her companion wiggled and turned away disdainfully. “We are being left behind. This isn’t our pool; there’s nothing here for us.” He swam towards the open river.

“Goodbye,” the friendly traveler said. “Someday you will find your way.” And she was gone.

The exchange left Fish feeling restless. Contemplating sand swirls and the various creatures scurrying across the pool bottom no longer captivated him. Searching for worms and grubs still occupied time, but the thrill of the hunt was gone.  He watched as a small school of two year olds left the pool and were swept downstream. Instead of the usual relief, he felt an emptiness inside, something he had never experienced.

A few days passed, the water brightening and darkening as always. But nothing about it felt the same. He couldn’t seem to stay in one spot; instead he swam around and around the pool. He felt as though he was searching for something, but had no idea what it might be. Then one morning he found himself at the edge of the pool, looking out into the strong current of the river as it rushed by. He watched leaves swirl past above him, some of them catching on the rocks at the edge of his pool. He poked his nose out from behind the rocks and felt the current pull at him.

And then he was out in it. He struggled for a moment, half turned to go back to the pool, and then, with a sudden feeling of exhilaration, let himself move downstream with the current.

The next few days went by in a blur of images and sensations. Fish saw creatures he had never seen before: long sinuous eels, other creatures like him but with sharp teeth that lined gaping jaws, birds bobbing down from the surface. He found hiding places behind rocks or captive tree trunks where he could rest and calm the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. There were times when he almost turned around. But the end of every rest break found him heading back downstream.

One day the water tasted different. It was murky and briny. The river’s edges slowly moved apart as he swam, until he could no longer see them.  He felt contradictory movement from the water; sometimes he was pulled forward and then if he rose a bit in the water he was pushed back towards the river.  The further he went, the saltier the water became until he knew he had reached the ocean. There was open water as far as he could see.

He stopped, holding himself in place as the water tried to push him back and forth.  He turned around. Far in the distance he could make out rocky edges that showed where the river was, the river that led back to his pool.  He hesitated and then turned back around, putting the river behind him.

Deep down inside Fish knew his pool would wait for him, cool and calm and safely surrounded by rocks. And someday he would return. But for now, adventure awaited and he surged forward, letting the pull of the tide take him out into the wide open sea.