Disposing loved ones

In the moonlight, the Chinese woman bends over the pond and sighs. The water level is almost full and she holds her nose to keep the stench out. The surrounding is bright enough to see the detritus and the oily, floating remains of those plentiful, tiny ones that used to live there. She throws her gaze at that first one--white and stiff, body rolled over, its eyes opaque, mouth opened.

She shakes her head. Rolling up her sleeves, she reaches for a net with a long extension, and inserts the metallic pole into the water. Lifting up the pole, the frame of the net sags and the woman pushes it hard against the vertical wall of the pond for support. With some effort, she lifts the net just above the water, and tumbles the mottled three-feet creature onto the granite rim of the pond.

The water is crystal clear. Next, the woman goes for the orange one that is two feet long. That plumb body is also lying flat at the bottom of the pool against the mosaic, its questioning eyes staring back. The scales have started to dislodge, its tail partially disintegrated. This one seems to be even heavier, since she reluctantly employs her gloved hand to help it out of the watery grave, her chest heaving in the effort. There is another last, big one remaining. The one which shows just a vestige of the once beautiful fan-like fins. After this one is out, she wipes sweat off her forehead.

Holding a black trash bag in one hand, she gently nudges the first body into the bag. During the process, the koi gets twisted and snaps into two.

Half closing her eyes, she deposits the pieces into the bag. She lowers her head, the way she reverently does in Church, when she strokes the second one into the same blackness. As she finally stands up with everything, the bag breaks, releasing all the cold corporeal bodies on the stone slab.

They have looked like this before bagging, but now they're not neatly abreast of one another. Sobbing, she asks her son to bring her three more trash bags.

***

Our pool was a vibrant playground. Water from the fountain tumbled down like the rapids that my grandma mentioned. The sound of the water roared, and all of us enjoyed letting the turbulence run over our torsos.

But not tonight. After the rain, everything was still. Pieces of drifting red fish feed laid uneaten.

The moonlit water overhead stayed still. I glanced at the willowy leaf-like silhouette floating on the surface. That was my buddy Joe, the one with silver scales. His belly seemed to be bloated, his glorious fins unmoving. I nudged him with my nose, but he did not respond. He looked pale as an over-sized baby, his mouth in a frozen grin. Wouldn't he wake up and swim with me anymore? Oh well, his life must have left him--my mother said it would happen to us all at some point--he had gone to a better place, some place like a lake or pond where the light shimmers endlessly and food is unlimited.

My other, smaller companion--I found her behind the piece of cantilevered granite in one corner of our pool. Her belly had turned upwards, her eyes opaque and lifeless. She was, needless to say, not splashing about anymore.

My breathing had become tight. The smell of the water turned oddly medicinal. Something was wrong but I knew not what. I closed my eyes to embrace the darkness.