My son could not enjoy the beautiful, bright yellow fish with the willowy fins

"You can’t just kill him.”

“I have to, he’s a rodef,” my son said in resignation.

“A fish can’t be a rodef,” I explained. “He’s beautiful. Separate him from the other fish and you can still enjoy him.”

But my son could not enjoy the beautiful, bright yellow fish with the willowy fins.

Within days of introducing it to his aquarium, the other fish started to die: the black and silver stripped Zebras, the Neon Tetras…. It didn’t take long to realize the new fish was attacking the others. He removed the offensive fish to a gefilte fish jar (perhaps as a warning) and with a word of caution, donated him to a friend.

But the damage had already been done. Morning after morning, my son found another beloved fish floating on top of the water, having succumbed to its injuries. In a few short weeks, all the fish, with their rainbow of gold, pinks, greens, and blues were gone. Dejected, my son decided he’d give up his hobby and sell the fish tank.

At the same time our fish were slowly dying off, I was invited to an interview. I’d been desperately searching for a job for months. This job was perfect for me: close to home, convenient hours, good salary, and squarely in my area of expertise. To my delight, I got a follow-up call telling me they’d like to hire me ⸺ tossing in the compliment that the other applicants hadn’t even come close.

Was this really happening? Were we going to be able to slowly climb out of the debt we’d accrued during my unemployment? I could barely believe my good fortune as I watched myself progress from one stage to the next in the acceptance process.

And then, suddenly, it came crashing down.