Last year our house sold.  This was a miracle.  It had been on the market for well over a year.   Within two weeks of opening escrow, the renters in our other house also gave 30-days notice.  This was God.  So, we loaded up what was left of the hasty evacuation from a 2700 square foot house to move into a small tract house, in a small tract house neighborhood, in a small California town mid-way between San Francisco and LA.

The first night we moved in, we had collapsed on the couch, both of us bleakly staring at the dirty white walls, sighing with relief to be completely in.  That’s when the unfamiliar sound of our “new” doorbell rang.  We looked at each other with dread definitely not wanting to deal with whoever or whatever was on the other side of the front door!  When I opened it, there stood our 10-year old next door neighbor, tall and thin, blond hair hanging down.  Close beside her stood another neighbor, six year old Hispanic Corbin.  Sierra, bold and direct, held up her carefully written sign decorated with bright red smiley faces:  “Free Smiles.”  She proudly announced, “We are selling free smiles,” and then waited patiently to see what I would say.   Well, how could I resist?  Naturally, I asked the price before buying such a precious commodity.   She answered, “They are free; they are all free smiles,” and very matter-of-factly told me that she and Corbin simply draw smiley faces on your face.  She emphatically reiterated that they were all free!  While she was talking, I took note of the tightly held bundle of yellow, red and black permanent markers in both of their hands.  Quickly, quickly, I thought, “How in the world to handle this obviously precarious situation.”  I could only imagine how long it would take for the markers to wear off of my face or what it would take to get the ink off!

“Of course, I want free smiles,” I exclaimed.  “But, since there are two of you and I really, really need lots of smiles today, how about if you draw them on my two arms?”  Well, my new neighbors were ecstatic at the thought.  So, up and down my arms, inside and out, beautiful smiles began to appear.  All the while Sierra talked and talked and talked, filling me in on the neighborhood gossip – which neighbors were friendly and which ones to clearly stay away from with suitable explanations for why on both counts.

It was only the first night in our new place, but clearly, this is going to be the best neighborhood ever.  If you are ever feeling blue or life isn’t exactly like you had imagined it might be, not to worry, I know exactly where you can get some free smiles to brighten your day.

Eyes sparkling, giggles and smiles held in, two tow-headed boys and their parents watched me in anticipation of what I would do or say when I opened the small, but heavy, Christmas bag.  Trying to reach in and get a hold of it, I couldn’t get it out…clear, plastic and heavy covered in red tissue paper.  The 13 year old jumped up to help, holding the bag while I lifted it out:  a container, filled with water was holding a bright blue baby Beta fish.  I was not only surprised, but thrilled!

Last year I lost my dear friend Lizzie, a beautiful tri-colored Corgi.  It was hard.  The boys seeing the vacancy in the pet arena of our lives have been searching tirelessly for the perfect dog to replace her.  They’ve come up with quite a lot to choose from ranging from Yorki-poo to Affen..something or other.  The hope was that by Christmas time I would be adequately healed and finally in the market for a new dog.  Alas, I’ve tried to convince them, and more importantly myself, that no, I’m not ready to give my heart away again just yet.

Hence, the fish.  The family explained in detail that this was a tester pet, to see if I was ready for a new doggie yet.  They thought that if I could handle the emotional responsibilities of handling the tiny fish, then maybe I could gradually warm up to the idea of a new dog.  So far, I’m not sure!!

Naming the fish, of course, became the first issue.  Shamu?  Killer?  Sparky?  Well, since he’s a boy fish, delivered at Christmas time, I decided a Christmas name would be best.  That only led to oh, so many more choices!  The top three names were finally voted on with two abstentions; the final count coming in to name my new baby “Herald.”  You know for “Hark the herald angels sing!”  I think its perfect!

Harold sits on the kitchen counter and eats baby fish food.  I tried moving him to my desk where I sit most of the day, but he didn’t like it all.  I also tried giving him grown-up fish food, but he didn’t like that either.  So, now his home is on the counter, beside the stove to keep warm, and he happily continues to eat his baby food.

Every morning I go in and switch the kitchen light on.  That’s when Herald wakes up.  He sees me coming close and swims over to the side of the bowl, fluffs out his tiny little fins and flutters them furiously trying to get my attention.  I lift off the lid and sprinkle in some food and he swims toward swallows it quickly.  We are both happy.  I’m happy to be greeted so excitedly first thing in the morning, and Herald is…well, I guess just happy to be fed!