literate  ~  canadian ~ global  ~ celebrating 5 years of insignificance

[Home] [Submissions] [Links] [Search & Archives]


When All Things Can Be

by Deanna Symoski

A little boy and a little girl sat fishing on the edge of the world. They always fished there together, although neither of them ever caught anything. It didn't matter, however, they just liked to go. And as they fished, their small fingers tight around the makeshift poles, they talked, as children often do, about the day. What had happened, what they did. The world stretched out before them both and life was wonderfully innocent.

And then on one day in particular, the little girl told the little boy what she wanted to be when she grew up. He smiled and told her that was a fine idea. He knew the little girl could do whatever she wanted. The the little boy, feeling especially sure of himself, told the little girl what he wanted to be when he grew up. She liked it well enough. And so each went on about their dreams until the little girl realized: neither of them wanted to be fishermen.

She told this to the little boy, assuming he would know what to say. He always seemed to make her feel better. She cried that if neither of them wanted to be fishermen, how would they ever stay together on the edge of the world? He told her he didn't know. She asked him if he would stay with her and do what she wanted to do when she grew up, but, sadly, he said no. Then he asked her if she would go with him and be what he wanted to be. She couldn't, she told him. It was fine for him, but she wanted something else. And so the little girl and the little boy grew silent.

Finally, the little girl told the little boy that if he wanted to be a fisherman, she would be a fisherman, too, and they could stay together on the edge of the world forever. He thought on that for awhile. He wanted so badly to stay with her just as they were, but he knew it wouldn't work. He would get bored so quickly if he fished all his life and never caught anything. And he knew that she would tire of it as quickly. The little boy knew things about the world that the little girl didn't, like how it would be to never catch a fish.

In a desperate attempt to change his mind, the little girl asked what would happen if they did catch fish one day. But the little boy told her that they fished there everyday and they just couldn't catch anything in that spot. She asked what would happen if they fished in another spot, but he just didn't know; he had never been to another spot. The little girl began to cry. She didn't ever want to stop fishing with the little boy. He put his small arm around her and told her it would be okay, even though he was sad, too.

It was getting dark as it always did when the little boy and the little girl went fishing on the edge of the world. Each knew that they had to be getting home before it got too late, so they pulled in their lines and gathered their things and started walking back. Before long, they could see the little girl's house. The little boy followed her to the gate; they were both very quiet. They stood with each other for a moment, then finally the little boy asked if they were going fishing again the next day, just as he asked her every night when he walked her to her gate. She smiled, as was her usual response, and told him she would see him tomorrow.

Deanna Symoski writes: "I am a 21 year old college student at Penn State Erie, The Behrend College. Currently, I am in my 6th semester as a Communications major. I have worked as both staff writer and features editor of The Behrend Beacon, the campus's weekly newspaper, and I have been published online at thebeet.com. I hope to continue my career in writing, particularly in fiction."

 

[Home] [Submissions] [Links] [Search & Archives]

The Danforth Review is produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. All content is copyright of the person who created it and cannot be copied, printed, or downloaded without the consent of that person. See the masthead on the submissions page for editorial information. All views expressed are those of the writer only. International submissions are encouraged. The Danforth Review is archived in the Library and Archives Canada. ISSN 1494-6114. 

[see TDR visitors by month]   

We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts. Nous remercions de son soutien le Conseil des Arts du Canada.