Mornings at the Fish Market

In Seattle this spring, I spent an early morning at Pike Place, watching the fishmongers throw salmon across the counter, catching them with a flourish and a shout. I'd seen it on TV. In person, it's even better.

A boy of about seven was standing in front of me with his grandmother, mesmerized. One of the fishmongers noticed and asked if he wanted to try catching one. The boy nodded so hard his hat fell off.

They put on a giant rubber apron that went to his ankles. Everyone in the crowd counted down. The fishmonger tossed a small fish gently, and the boy caught it, clutching it to his chest with both arms and screaming with joy.

The whole market cheered. His grandmother bought the fish. I bought a coffee and stood there for another hour, smiling at nothing, completely charmed by the whole place.