"Guys go fishing to catch fish," you said, " Not to have a fish jump in your boat. It takes away from the fun of fishing."
I was that fish, the one that was soaring through the air with ease, when you drove your boat into my path. BAM. I wiped out and while the other fishermen were jealous of the amazing fish that landed in your boat, you were deploring. Telling it to mosey along, you had a more desirable fish to capture. I was stuck though, flailing about, slowly using up all of the water to stay alive. Every now and then when nothing better was biting at your line you'd come over with a bucket filled with just enough water to keep me holding on. At times you would try to throw me back out to sea, solely out of clemency, but a gust of wind (or maybe hope) would blow me right back in. Eventually you grew used to my presence, even while other fish were biting. I was always there for you to fall back on just incase things didn't go your way and you ended up empty handed.
Months have gone by and your words and actions still do not always match up. Once in a while you pick up and dangle me over the water only to bring me back on board and put me in a cooler full of water. Never knowing exactly what you want to do with your unexpected good luck. Mean while, the other fishermen have been anticipating and lingering for a chance to catch the magnificent beauty that you didn't have to work for. Hoping you will toss her back for good.
What no one expects though, is that she musters up the strength to toss herself back into the sea. To get what she really needs, the place where she doesn't have to struggle wondering if something else will bite that you will want to keep. Maybe she'll realize she isn't meant to be a trophy, mounted in some house for people to envy, but to live and thrive off of the freedom the water gives her.
