Recently, we had a death in the family. Our little goldfish Alfred passed away. About a year ago we bought little Alfred for my oldest boy. We settled on a goldfish because all the other more interactive, more personable pets were not a possibility. We have no room for a horse, which I would love. And to be honest, I am not ready for a dog. If I get a dog, why not have another kid? Don’t get me wrong; I would love to have more kids, but all in the right time. And so is the pet situation. My oldest boy would love a dog. He sees them on the street, on TV, at our neighbors and he just goes crazy over them. I feel like I am depriving him, so in my attempt to alleviate my maternal guilt we settled for a goldfish. If you ask me, I would say that the goldfish is at the bottom of the pet totem pole. They stink, you can’t play with them and let’s be honest, they usually die before any emotional attachment can be made. But we made a big deal about it and we went to purchase our first family pet. We took our boy in his little red wagon down to our local fish vendor, bought him a cute little fish, some food, a netted scooper, and some greenery to lighten up the seemingly boring existence of this poor creature. All in all the entire activity came to about $3.50. And my boy loves him! As a result, fish was one of his first words. Little Alfred the Goldfish lives high on a countertop to keep him from swimming on my carpet. My son begs to be held up for what seems like hours on end, just to watch the little fish swim monotonously round and round in his little bowl. If there is one thing I am learning from life it is that the ordinary carries with it almost always a hidden extraordinary. Perhaps having kids has taught me this. Perhaps I am just getting older and am learning to appreciate life more fully. Whatever the reason, it is something I am discovering. And I would say this applies to little Alfred as well. On the fifth day of May in Japan, there is a holiday called “Kodomo no hi” which means Children’s Day, but it is better known as Boy’s Day. (I always had known the fifth of May as Cinco de Mayo, complete with a great Mexican feast to celebrate, but life changes…). Come mid April in preparation of the holiday, families, namely those with boys, fly these enormous windsocks in the shape of a carp from their house, apartments, wherever they can. Even inside the house, carp decorations fill their homes. Extravagantly colored, even highlighted with gold trim, carp fly throughout Japan. Carp! You know, garbage fish. I hate to admit it, being the ethnocentric that I am, I had to laugh when I first came here and realized that everyone was flying these obnoxious garbage fish from their homes. And not only that, but celebrating them! Their image and my image were far from the same. If you have ever been to Lake Powell, you know what I am talking about. As a kid, I would spend the bulk of my summer at Lake Powell. Motor up river for a bit and there is a marina called Dangling Rope. The only access to the marina is via the lake. The highlight of the marina was the ice cream and the carp. As stupid kids do, we would spend an extravagant amount of money on some machine produced soft cream ice cream and then go throw it to the hungry masses of carp over the dock. The water was so thick with them, we were sure we could just step out and walk on them, though, no one ever dared. Instead, we would just toss them spoonfuls of ice cream and watch them fight it out. And when the ice cream would run out, we would spit, toss crackers, garbage, anything we had and they would eat it all. So, then as an adult, I move to this country with these same fish flying from the housetops as a proud banner. Huh??? In Japan, carp are called koi (pronounced coy). They are known for their bright, vibrant colors—orange, white, yellow, red and every combination in between. Even their professional baseball team out of Hiroshima is known as the Carp. From my limited and abbreviated understanding of Japanese folklore, the carp in its various form and color is believed to swim upstream despite adversity and upon reaching its final destination, become a dragon. Hence, why they are celebrated here. Every family wants their son to grow to be a dragon. Not bad for little Alfred, who has since become more than just a goldfish that stinks up my house. Instead, he became a great symbol illuminating the best of what I want for my boys—to voyage upstream against all that life can throw against them and emerge as dragons. Will we still probably get a dog one day? Yeah, but one day. Now that Alfred is gone, will we run out and get another goldfish? Only if my maternal guilt wins. But for the mean time—I am content knowing that Alfred—our little dragon in embryo—inspired and delighted my own little dragons in embryo.