Love Digs Deep

Big Guy's love for me runs deep. I have a hole in my front yard to prove it. 

It all starts with mosquito-fish. Two of them, each no bigger than one-half inch in length, rode in a water-filled plastic bottle (aka a recyclable water bottle) for five days as I traveled from Phinizy Swamp in Georgia to St. Louis, Mo. From there, I moved the critters to a square jar on my bedroom nightstand.

However, much as we are promised a mansion in heaven, these fish are in line for better digs. And they don't have to die to get there. Big Guy has constructed a front yard pond. It's roughly the circumference of a kiddie pool, though oddly shaped, and about 16 inches deep. To pay their rent, I expect the mosquito-fish to eat lots of mosquito-larvae and birth lots of fish babies so there's even more fish to eat more mosquitoes.

As we (meaning Big Guy) prepared the pond, we unearthed tree roots, bathroom tile scraps, night-crawlers and the other mish-mash that makes yard soil so unique. I figured out why bad guys dig shallow graves--digging is hard work and they don't love whomever they are dumping. As the day slipped by, I realized that my mosquito-fish, content with 10 ounces of water in a water bottle, would do o.k. in a five-inch deep plastic bucket or even released into the larger, turtle filled pond a few streets away.

But when I get fixated on an idea, no matter how odd, Big Guy does his level best to make my vision come true. He is a deep digger; he loves me, and that's why my fish are moving on up. 

So back to that mansion in heaven, I hope I am charged with a task far finer than reproducing by the hundreds and eating mosquito larvae. What I'd really like, now and for infinity and for forever, is to spend my time taking care of Big Guy.