Out of all the exotic animals. The baby gorilla with his bald head. The artful curve of the giraffe’s neck. A scuttling meerkat…
Out of all the shapes and colours, I liked the otters best.
In the cool and quiet room, we watched them spash, spin, and dive. One made double somersaults, not because it needed to, but because it wanted to.
There is something there, I thought then and I think now.
In their little life, the otters swim and thrive, because they go beyond the humdrum and land on joy. They climb out, shaking the spikes of their wet fur, and then plunge back into what’s before them. Not dreary. Not plodding. With back flips.
Tomorrow I go back to work after a mini-vacation.
I think I’m going to remember the otters.