Mother and Fish

Four fish on the stall. They lie like gifts from the sea.

The mother and child are silent. Each sinks into their own thoughts. Seated side by side, they are two small islands.

They wait for customers who do not come. Worry seeps into the mother's heart. The child's eyes follow a boat far away at the edge of the horizon.

Beyond that line is the father.

A boat floats on the water. Another small island in the wide sea. The father, too, is silent. He pulls the net, and pulls again. The wind blows without direction. Still he does not let go of the oar.

Those four fish have left his hands and lie on this shore. That one meal is the reason for today.

Suddenly he raises his head. At the edge of the horizon, a faint dot. Even though he cannot see them, he knows. His wife and child are there.

At that same moment, the child on this shore is looking at that line too. Their eyes meet on the same line. Neither knows.

The horizon is the distance between them. A line that cannot be reached, but is not broken.

On this side the mother follows the boat; on the other the father follows the land. Unable to see one another, they look at the same line.

The fish are silent. But they carry stories of the deep sea. The father's sweat, a meal for the family, the time of return.

As the silence lengthens, the waiting deepens. In the small place before the stall, the family's day flows on.

Until someone's footsteps stop, today, too, the day passes this way.