Elizabeth and Kyle feeding the fish at the pond near my parent's house.
A few pieces of Nana's stale bread and a quick walk to the nearby pond and the kids are rosy cheeked and content for at least 30 minutes. Standing at the edge of the brown pond, the water is calming despite the whipping wind that bites my ears. Are the fish sleeping right now or just cold? The bread soaks up water and slowly falls apart, sinking into the muck that must lay below. The kids don't seem to mind and gleefully toss chunks of bread as far as their small arms can reach. In the summer, the heavy black catfish will swirl past our feet, lazily snapping the surface of the water, sucking up the bread with a loud snap. No luck on this day. Today it is just the four kids and my sister and I, bundled up against the bitter cold, carefully watching the water, as the bread slowly sinks. The fish continue to sleep, unaware of the activity above them.
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