Every creature is capable of inexplicable behaviors. I am no exception. This sedentary life of mine is quite satisfying. I have never longed for recognition from the world, nor desired the acquisition of immeasurable riches. I contain none of the ambition that has propelled my namesake to fame. As long as the artificial sun shines on my shell and the water remains at an acceptable pH level, I pine not. This is why I was as surprised as the human who found me wrapped up in a pair of odiferous underpants at the bottom of the hamper beside my terrarium. What force had possessed me in the middle of that first night of December?
The last clear memory I have before the possession is of the shapely, long-haired human turning off the sun. The aurora of the night-light flashed across the room. I could see Gilda Ratner in her cage, her paws held close together in prayer. The humans did not pray, yet sleep came quickly to them. I sat on my foam dock above the water, held tightly against the glass pane with suction cups. Paul Remora, my suckerfish cohabitant, waved his tail goodnight to me. I nodded in consensus. It had been a long day and it was time to close my eyes and dream of ponds and fruit flies.
As the heat dissipated from my calcified and keratin shell, a different energy entered my head. I was overcome with the need for glory. I wanted to see stars, lots of stars burning from billions of miles away. I wanted to feel natural heat created by fusion. Nothing could satiate me, nothing could stop me. I had to find a way out. I wanted to see a full spectrum of light slowly climb above the Earth's horizon and turn the black sky blue. I had been dreaming all my life, and on this first night in December, dreams were no longer enough. I had to explore and discover the world of my ancestors who once roamed wild and free across this planet.
The rim of the aquarium was four inches above my head. The challenge was mighty, for I am only six inches long and not exactly engineered for climbing. But I had to. I HAD to succeed with this impossible deed. My muscles tightened and my nostrils flared. One paw held the rim, my hind legs quivered from the weight of my carapace. Both paws made it to the rim, the burden released from my rear. The foam dock swayed as I achieved verticality. It was then time for my front paws to prove themselves. The dock continued to teeter beneath my body and created tiny waves that splashed against the glass. I was afraid the humans would awaken, but they lay still and dreaming. With one great big push I lifted my body out of the aquarium and balanced on the corner of the tank.
What I never took into account was the refracting effect that water has upon light. From my aquarium, the floor seems only inches away, a foot at most. Perched upon the ledge, however, I realized I was five feet up. You may wonder why I didn't leap, you may think turtle shells protect us from pain. The truth is I have nerves all over me. I pondered and perched and predicted the pain of the fall. I considered the pain in my heart, knowing I may never glimpse the rising sun. I felt the energy build in my brain, my front paws twitched with excitement and fear. I knew I had to beckon all the courage within me. I knew the pain was worth the joy.
I leaped and tumbled through the air. The air that whizzed by dried off any remaining moisture on my body. I braced my mind to accept the inevitable pain of impact, but the floor was much softer than I had expected. It bent beneath me and absorbed the force of my fall. I then realized I had not made it to my destination. I would not see the sunrise. I must have tilted when I fell. I tilted directly into the hamper. I was surrounded by dirty socks and stale shirts. There was no way to climb out. The edge of the clothes bin was over a foot above my head. My claws could not grip the smooth plastic walls. I was captive once again.
The hours that passed allowed me to gain some perspective. I had not failed. I would not see the sunrise. I would not see the horizon or feel the heat of fusion or roam free as my ancestors had. But I had done something I had never done before. I broke the boundaries and I flew. I dove and discovered that I am daring! I did not find myself in the wilderness but I found the wildness within me. I know now that one night, when the humans are sleeping and that aurora fills the room, I know now, to tilt to the right.
