Persian New Year, celebrated on March 21st of each year, represents new beginnings – the arrival of the yearly spring equinox brings about blossoming of new life and new possibilities. It also marks the time of the year when most Persian families acquire a new household pet – or two. The goldfish, the quintessential orange blob of life, represents just that – life form and the pure, simple act of living. Most years, my goldfish usually die a few days (or weeks, if I’m super careful) after we have celebrated Norooz and wrapped up and put away the items of the Sofreh. If they live long enough, my family and I will often release them to a pond or river and watch them swim away in their new found home. This year, however, things have been a bit different. Enter the first Hoveyda-Eren Norooz goldfish – Ramôn. The longest living goldfish ever to be possessed in all of my Noroozes (plural of Norooz?). So far, Ramôn has lived beyond my wildest expectations – and it has been a tumultuous road of love and hate for us two.

Much, if not all, of the credit of Ramôn’s longevity is due to my husband. Changing his small fish bowl’s water on a regular basis, he has created for our goldfish an environment reminiscent to what I can only assume goldfish feel when they are in their ‘natural’ habitat – he always lets the water sit for 1-2 days to dechlorinate so it’s ‘easier on his little gills’ and I have even witnessed him adding a leaf or two of spinach to the water bowl for him to ‘nibble on’. I was pretty sure he was insane, but over time, came to realize that this tender love and care had not only given our goldfish life, but helped him grow in size and strength to a new level never before witnessed by a Norooz goldfish. Always making sure the transition from one fish bowl to the other is smooth and does not perturb Ramôn, my husband will use the 3/4 cup plastic measuring cup to take him from one poop infested home to a new, fresh batch of water. To say that I was starting to get jealous of the attention Ramôn was getting would not be an over exaggeration – hence the resentment I first started to cultivate towards this tiny living thing.

Unsure of the sex, we first named him some random female name which didn’t stick until one day (probably after a binge watching session of ‘Pablo Escobar – El Patron Del Mal’) my husband proclaimed him to be Ramôn – and the name has stuck.

I guess what I really wanted to share in this post is my growing relationship with this tiny being. What most people (myself included) always assumed to be one of the ‘dumbest’ creatures on this planet has amazed me with it’s vitality, ‘intelligence’ and how it has somehow managed to swim it’s way into my heart. I was initially pretty annoyed at it’s mere presence – the attention my husband devoted to it was baffling to me. I was also irritated with the upkeep of such a small creature with what I felt was very little return in terms of affection that you would usually expect from a pet. His voracious appetite, consisting mostly of bread crumbs from our toaster and the occasional nibble of the spinach leaf, was what marked the beginning of our growing bond. I started to notice that every time I would walk to the edge of the kitchen to dip my finger in the bread crumb tray in the toaster to feed him, Ramôn would float to the edge of his bowl and stare at me. As I walked around the kitchen bar towards his bowl, he would use his small fins to move himself in a circular motion to follow my movement, first slowly and then with mounting excitement, frantically back and forth. I can only imagine the fish eye lens view he must be witnessing, or what that even looks like from a goldfish’s perspective, but he knew when it was feeding time and he is one impatient little shit. Overtime, instead of dropping the crumbs in, I started lowering my finger to the water’s edge and after a few times, Ramôn started eating straight from my hands, sucking the crumbs off my fingertips with an exaggerated ‘O’ he makes with his mouth. I’m not sure if it was the daily fingertip tickles, the following of my movements with his little body or the simple feeling of calm that comes from watching his fluid movements that took Ramôn from a simple goldfish to what I now consider a pivotal part of our family.

There is something reassuring about having a living thing, a beating heart and breathing being living in your home with you. I know that Ramôn’s life is likely not going to be very long given that he is after all a goldfish – but he has so far amazed me with the simple act of his existence and his instinctual movements and graceful glide. He even sleeps funny – floats there in the middle of his bowl until he starts to dip face down and then makes a few quick strokes with his front fins to balance himself again. These tiny quirks and daily shenanigans have become part of my day to day.

In a way, Ramôn has reminded me the importance of preserving life, whether it’s my stupid goldfish that I’ve come to love or the life of any other being, human or animal.This life is short, and if you’re a goldfish, it’s probably even shorter. The most we can do is take advantage of the moments, the connections, and the gentle reminders of our numbered days on this planet.

Ramôn, making his usual face. June 2016