Personal memory by Evan Paul
1995 • Oak Creek, WI, USA
Wandering along the meandering creek that fed through the street-side ditches, crawfish (crayfish, mini lobsters) clawed and slithered between pebbles that floored the clear liquid trench. I used to spend hours with my ankles submerged in the cool water patiently trying to grab one of these creatures in my little hands. When you caught one and lifted it up in your fist out of water, their scale tails would whip water in your face or clip one of your fingers with their claws. I don't know if why we don't see them as much is because we aggravated them, or due to polluted waters... But how precious was that spazm of flippering flappering life I felt in my tiny kid hand?
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