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Wish You Were Here Mr Fish
2003-04-10
Whenever I go on vacation I feel compelled to send myself postcards from my destination. Such was the case few summers ago. After having spent 3 weeks in some mountain resort, I bought a dozen postcards to send back to friends and family and myself of course. On the last night of the vacation, few friends and I returned to the hotel intoxicated beyond belief. It was around 4 am when I�ve realized I still haven�t done my postcard routine. With slurred language and shaky handwriting I slapped on few sentences together to tell I�m having a great time and couldn�t wait to see whomever I was writing to. I�m pretty sure I declared my love to one of my friends who was gay. It was a bit tricky explaining that later on. After writing to my friends, I went on to write a few words to myself, licked a few stamps and out they went.2 months later I�m back in New York. The postcard from me to my parents was hanging in the kitchen. On my desk though were 3 other unfamiliar letters. I instantly recognized my handwriting but couldn�t remember when this happened. Then I see who the postcards were addressed to. Apparently I wrote to my cats. One postcard for each. I asked if they were being fed and if they miss me. And yes it was addressed to �Mrs. Cat�. That would explain the 2 postcards yet there was a 3rd one. It was addressed to �My Fish�. I posed some intellectual questions such as �do you like your fish bowl?� or �what are your thoughts on life after death?� Beside the postcards to my cats this wouldn�t be so strange except the fact that I never had a fish.
I�m pretty sure my parents framed the postcards just to show of my stupidity. I blame the alcohol and the mountain air. And maybe the hidden need for a fish.