Fuchsia jellyfish undulate through the waveless tank water. The water sucks the darkness in from the corner of the room, spotlighting its glowing, ethereal inhabitants all the more. The jellyfish turn orange, their stunted tentacles tickling gaily.

Cadence presses her hand against the aquarium glass, reaching for them. In the dark, the glass barrier is invisible.  Her hand is suspended with the jellyfish. The light over the tank changes again. The jellyfish turn blue. Cadence drops her hand to her side, the glass far from stopping her imagination. Her head is tilted back, a cascade of bobbed, blond hair brushing the back of her striped cardigan. Her mouth is open, her eyes are lit, watching the color-shifting jellyfish float in soft circles.

Hana leans from my hip, a curious hand stretched out. A surge of children push towards the glass. Hana’s hand recoils, her body folding closer to mine. She chirps a question in my ear. I nod pretending to understand.

“Jellyfish,” I tell her.

We leave the jellyfish exhibit reluctantly, hopping from one exhibit to the next. At first I keep a casual eye out for the others we met here, but soon we are parted, taking in the different fish at individual paces. We linger by the sting ray pool. When we leave it, mine are the only wet fingers.

The sharks, penguins, and Anaconda hold particular fascination for Cadence. Hana ventures a few times from my hip to the viewing platforms, pointing at different fish with her usual awe for life. Her brunette, half, side pony is motionless with the jerks of her head. I’m still eager for the day that the hair near her face reaches her chin. Until then, short ponies and copious sprays of hair products are my only way to keep her hair looking girly.

We pass by the sting ray pool a last time before leaving.

“Wait, Mom. Wait! I want to touch the sting ray.”

I look at her doubtfully, remembering her earlier eagerness and then hesitance. I lead her to an empty side of the pool. She pulls her sleeves over her elbows following the flapping motions of the distant sting rays. Hana leans forward her hand stretched towards the water. I let her dip her hand in. She looks at her wet hand as if that is all the excitement she needs.

Two sting rays come toward our side, one gliding over the other.

“Here it comes, Cadence. Get ready.”

The sting ray skims the side of the pool, its wing tasting the air a few feet away. Too bad. I was hoping he’d do that closer to us. I get ready to watch him pass by us, too deep for Cadence to reach. I get ready to wrench a disappointed four-year old back to the car. He floats away from the wall, and like a feather, floats back.

His wing curls over the side of the pool in front of us as he skims by.

“Hurry, Cadence, touch him!”

We reach our fingers out, his slimy skin sliding through ours, and then he’s gone. Back to the bottom of the pool.

My hands feel the stinging salt residue. The smell reminds me of Hawaiian beaches. I look down at Cadence. Her face is happy, her expression incredulous. Like a little sting ray of joy.