The Pelican

A boy stood at the end of a small rock jetty, fishing. Beside him was a small pail. The late afternoon sky was gray and the air was growing colder. Between casts of his small rod, the boy's shoulders trembled as he cried freely, shivering in a gathering mist. Above him soared a pelican. Around and around, the bird circled the boy, watching. With a tiny tilt of his wings he angled toward the rocks and the boy. He lit beside the pail and looked inside. He waddled in front of the boy who, to this point, had taken no notice of his presence.

“Hello, Small Man. I see you fish."
"I fish also."
"I will be fishing for my dinner very soon."
"You have caught three already. You must leave some for me."
“Do you not speak? Can you not hear me?”

The boy continued to sob quietly. He reeled in his line again and recast.

“You do not need to cry. The ocean is salty enough."
"Perhaps you should tell me why you cry."
"I would like to listen to your story, but listening makes me hungry. May I?”

The boy reached down with his right hand and pulled a fish from his pail, holding it up. He remained silent, staring at his line. The pelican swallowed the fish whole and counted the waves waiting for the boy to speak. Finally, the boy looked down at the bird.

"Me and my Grandpa used to go everywhere together, but now he tells me that he doesn’t always feel good anymore. Dad says he's getting very sick. He can’t drive me to ballgames anymore. He doesn’t wrestle with me anymore. Sometimes he forgets things. This morning he couldn’t remember my name.”

The tears started again.

“Getting old is not easy. I know. Soon will come the day that I will make my last dive. Could I have another?”

The boy held up another fish. The pelican gulped greedily. “Go on.”

“I’m scared.”

“If you are afraid he will not be with you much longer, why do you fish alone?"

The boy blinked and strained his eyes to stop the tears as he considered the question. He stared far out to sea, where the clouds touched the water. He remembered his grandfather's sailing lessons and the afternoons sailing the bounding main in his small boat pretending to be pirates. He remembered his first baseball game with his father and grandfather and how beautiful and green the grass was. He remembered looking up at both of them as they cheered, wanting to grow up to be just like them. He remembered every secret gift that his grandfather had given him and every hug that had made him feel so safe and warm and happy.

"Think how lonely he must feel. You should be with him now. I would be happier if I had a friend like you with me all of the time. I spend my all my days alone now. Are you going to eat that?” the pelican asked, pointing a wing at the last fish.

The boy fed him again. “You're right. I shouldn't be afraid. He needs me." The boy picked up his now empty pail and smiled at the pelican.

"I should go now. Do you talk to everyone?”

“I have never had the desire to speak before. Will you come back here again tomorrow? Listening is hungry work, but I find that fishing is harder.”

“Then I will come back tomorrow, if you need me to.”

“I would like that. Do not forget your fishing stick, Small Man."

"I won't. Who knows? Maybe, Grandpa can join us."