We dream. We journey. We swim through our futures. Today, we transform with “Definitions for Non-Fish” by Shaheen Virk, from our upcoming Room 48.2 Travellers.
Definitions for Non-Fish
Shaheen Virk
Alevin/Fry/Smolt/Juvenile/Adult: the various names of salmon as they mature throughout their lifecycle.
Did I tell you how I stood on the rails of the bridge that overlooked the creek, listening, with my hands cupped to my ears, to the sweet sound of water and wind weaving through cottonwoods and cedars. That day, I spied three ducks and a supermarket cart. I spied three bags of dog shit hanging over the bare branches of dormant trees. I spied three salmon swimming in circles waiting to die. Did you know they turn white as they get closer to death?
Anadromous: to migrate between saltwater and freshwater. When salmon move upstream, the water gestures back in place-memory. In autumn, they return to their motherland mother-water mother-water-land? I should stop there.
I’m not trying to be rude, but I think my parents are salmon. Sometimes when I look at my mother, I can see her bones and white hair. She is swimming and giving, and swimming and giving. I am enveloped in the tiny red cocoon, nestled in between the rocks, watching her swim back and forth. As for my father, when he immigrated he cut his hair and changed his name. He wears a baseball cap instead of a turban. He shortened his name so it would be easier for the tongue to release, one that is not accustomed to the harsh R’s of my mother’s language.
Smoltification: a process in which salmon mutate to accommodate the changing environment, a reconstruction of the gill infrastructure, a transformation of the osmoregulatory apparatus.
When I returned to my house after the walk I noticed that the garden tomatoes had ripened. So, I plucked them from their stems and they gave away softly like water, without anger or refusal. I held them in my palms, stained with the smell of earth and I felt like crying. They were ugly, discoloured, and lumpy. And yet they were fleshy and juicy and offered me their life. I dug a hole, buried my worries into the soil, and let out a wail—not because I was sad but because I was overcome with the feeling of love. I get emotional when something wants me to survive.
Semelparous: the cyclical characteristic of salmon, that they will die after spawning. The tired bodies will provide for the ecosystem and offspring when they hatch and begin to feed.
With each passing year I grow a soft shell that hardens over time, like the rings of a tree. There are some years of my childhood that never hardened right, so my insides are soft and mushy. I keep building over the sensitive core, hoping that the hardened layers on the outside will create something strong that I can lean into, but everything I do is always at the danger of collapsing.
But, of course, there is the tender silence of growing things in my garden. The sound of water, moving, moving.
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