Walking Irving Park Road: One Fish, Two Fish...

One Step At A Time

Rise up. Start fresh. See the bright opportunity in each new day. - Anonymous

For this story, I'm going all Dr. Seuss with these made-up lines. One fish, two fish... where did my fish go?

But let me start at the very beginning.

It was a perfect day in Chicago. The sky felt so big and blue and the few clouds looked so shapely. 

The girls, excited and bright-eyed, were skipping along as we exited the side door of our high-rise apartment building on Lakeshore Drive. We were headed a couple of blocks down Irving Park Road to Woolworth, one of the original pioneers of the five-and-dime store. 

We're here, I announced.

The store's colorful windows displayed the usual mix of necessities as well as a mess of life's unnecessities and impulse buys including records, souvenirs, toys, candy and popcorn. 

Unfazed, we headed straight to the pet section in back. Our quest? 

Getting goldfish.

The funnest part of goldfish-keeping.

I could see the delight in the girls' eyes. They were flashing a grin as they pressed their tiny faces onto the aquarium walls.

Eldest Daughter was eyeing an orange comet goldfish with white markings. It had the most beautiful flowing, forked tail. Iths bootiful, Mama, she cooed in a lispy voice.

Mama, dat 'un, said Younger Daughter. She was following with her finger a black moor goldfish with bulging 'telescope' eyes. Pretty cool!

Choices made. Goldfish bought. Mission accomplished.

Each with a baggie in hand, they were talking in a hushed voice, as if they were sharing a delightful secret. 

I ca'w mine Gowdee.

He be Bwackie.

They were hopping along and chattering on the way back, their smiles like sunshine and rainbows, packaged with a ribbon on top.

Then horrors - Splat! Younger Daughter's baggie slipped down the sidewalk.

For a moment, we all went silent, staring at Blackie who was flapped on the pavement, gleaming on the glossy, glass-like particles of disintegrated asphalt. Water had spilled out of the plastic baggie.

Younger Daughter's eyes went wide and her voice cracked, My gawdfish...

Ay, kakow! Eldest Daughter exclaimed.

Younger Daughter began to cry, her chest heaving with little hiccups. Even Eldest Daughter looked disconcerted. Both their faces had lost the glee from moments earlier.

But in a calming voice, I said, Just pick up the baggie.

Younger Daughter's voice was catching as tears filled her eyes. He okay, Mama?  

Of course, sweetheart, I said as brightly as I could. 

With that assurance, she lifted her chin from her hands and her face changed from being all tight with trying not to cry and lit up with a grin.

To this day, I smile at the memory.

Of two little girls, their faces brightened, their spirits lightening with each tiny, little step as we continued to walk on home. 

Of Goldie in a plastic bag and Blackie barely afloat in his.

A light warm breeze blew on my shoulders. The day was splendid. 

Even the road looked lovely to me, like a self-contained universe that said life brimmed with possibilities.