Norman

The breeze agitates the palm trees. Their rigid leaves gently clap and click together whispering “par-a-iso.” The glassious water stretches into infinity. I lean back and lift my feet from the sandy sea bed, the ocean supports the weight of my floating body. I can feel my hair fan out behind me as I stare up at the cloud dotted blue. It is late enough in the day that a half-moon hangs in the sky, a premonition of the night to come. Sea birds with expansive wings float on thermals. Their wings are triangular in shape, reminiscent of terradactyls. I feel calm, connected to the world through the ocean. At peace.

Something brushes against my shoulder and collar bone. With a jolt, I right myself. Okay, not a shark, it’s just a clump of seaweed. Or is it? Upon further inspection, it is indeed a clump of seaweed. But that’s not all. I notice a flicker of movement. A small, black and yellow striped fish is hiding below the floating clump of vegetation. He is the length of the last two digits of my little finger. I name him Norman, a decision made within a few seconds. Animal names just come to me sometimes.

At first Norman is very timid. It’s hard to get a good glimpse of him. I hold the stem of the seaweed gently between my thumb and pointer finger. Slowly he warms up to the idea of my presence. Cautiously, he swims under the slight cup of my hand that holds the seaweed. After a few minutes, he trusts me. I am just another floating object to hide below. His home just got a lot larger. Slowly, I bring my other hand toward him creating a cup below him. Ensuring that water stays in my hands, I lift him out of the ocean to inspect him more closely. He flips his tail gently, unaware that he now only has about a cup of water to swim in. In that moment, I have full determination over this creature. I could easily let his life sustaining liquid drain between my fingers. I feel a rush of energy, power. Norman’s may be a small life, but it is a life I could easily take. Forever more, I would be able to tell people that I had caught and killed a fish with my bear hands. What a bad ass, I would appear to be (especially if I didn’t mention Norman’s size). Another thought floats through my head. Norman is oblivious of the change in his situation. He has no idea that he could be left out to dry and die. Am I any better off than Norman? I too am so trusting that my little world is taking care of me. Would I be able to tell if my situation were close to complete destruction? More than likely, I would be as content in my trust as little Norman. Am I that oblivious now? Are we all?

I lower Norman back into the ocean. From my hand, he swims under the length of my arm up to my armpit. He relaxes in the shade it provides. When I head to the beach, I leave Norman floating with the little chunk of seaweed that I found him under, “protected” from the vast array for aquatic predators. He trusts and I trust. What other choice do we have.