I emerged from a cloud of slimy eggs in a fresh-water pond. I was a tiny minnow. This time I had turned again so my head and body were facing slightly upward. Special gills and lungs helped me breathe air from the water. My legs and arms were fins that enabled me to swim up and down, forward and backward. I could swim gracefully in an out of the reeds and plants at the bottom of the pond.
One of my companions was a lady minnow. I pursued her until she laid some eggs at the bottom of the pond. I swam over, releasing my sperm to fertilize them. It was a good thing I did because the next day a bigger mouth than mine scooped me up and swallowed me.
I hatched again, this time as a larger fish. My fish companions and I swam everywhere in a group. We did this to protect ourselves, but sometimes it was just for the sheer fun of it. When the head fish turned right, we all followed him. When he turned left, we turned together in the opposite direction. Occasionally we poked our mouths out of the water to gobble some of the insects that we used to be.
I became many kinds of fish and watery swimmers. As a white shark, I cruised the oceans. My immense jaw had sharp teeth to tear my victims into small pieces so I could swallow them more easily.
Being a fish was limiting. I had to live in the water. There weren’t too many things I could do with my fins beside swim. What about that world above my head? Had I come all this way just to be a fish?