The Hermit

Before me are little pools of life. Each separate one is full of its own separate ecosystems. If I could be anything, I think, I would be a hermit crab. I have my home on my back and I go where the tides take me. I am as free as a bird in the sky. The possibilities are endless.

I pick up the one I have been eyeing. It has a brown shell that is practically purple, small red eyes, red antennae, both cheliped are drawn under its body, and the bright red walking legs protrude in front. He scurries to the edge of my spindly fingers and I rescue the fragile being before it plunges to its imminent death. The crab thanks me by climbing quickly back into its shell. I set it back into the center of my palm. One minute eye emerges from hiding, checking the security of the situation. Promptly it returns. I turn him upside down and look at the puzzle-piece figure that fits perfectly together in the dark shell.

I decide I’ve tortured him enough and slowly lower my palm into the tide pool. Sculpin scatter to the safety of the edges. The pool is covered in green anemones and algae. A cluster of blue muscles congregate in the farthest corner. The water reaches up to the center of my forearm. When I reach the bottom the once conservative crab erupts over the edge of my hand like a misty purple waterfall.

He’s gone in an instant to the refuge of an overhanging rock.

I wonder if our paths will ever cross again.

I stand up from my hunched down position. My knees pop and grown in disagreement and I move onto the next pool.