Fish Kiss Musings by Iggy

“If you paint your toes, the rock bass will kiss them,” Mom often says. It’s got to be true because they always prefer her toes to mine. The water is also magic, heals all wounds, and feels like warm butter at the end of July. Mom is an artist and artist brains are a little fluffier than everyone else’s. I see water as H2O, Nona’s antibacterial ointment heals my wounds, and in July, the water is just perfect, not too hot and not too cold so I rarely step foot on land then.

Non lake kids hate how clear it is. They can’t avoid seeing the fish near their feet or the crayfish claws hanging out in the rocks. One girl I knew was afraid of minnows. Imagine that?

I sit cross-legged at the end of our old weather beaten dock with a dragonfly resting peacefully on my bare shoulder. The water is still so I smile down at the smallmouth bass swimming along the drop off with their very serious straight paths. The cluster of rock bass standby like sentries glued in place with their noses all pointed in the same direction. I shimmy over to the side to search out the new tiny pumpkinseeds who arrived just this year by stream or bird and catch them flittering in the sand as if digging a hole to China. I could sit here all day and watch this underwater circus show. The dragonfly does not agree. It flicks it’s tail in disgust because to a fish it is lunch then pops up and disappears into the woods to find it’s own lunch or somewhere safer to sleep than a fish lovers shoulder.

I slide my legs over the edge, hop on a rock, and step into the shallow water. I wiggle my toes in the sand and wait. Even though my toes are never painted the tiny rock bass and new pumpkinseeds will still kiss my toes.