The Flying Fish

I had fish tacos once in my life. On Big Beach in Maui. LOVED them. So imagine my surprise at finding fish tacos I liked even MORE in Little Rock, Arkansas. Maybe my memory has dimmed (I assure you this has NOTHING to do with the wisdom of my years). I only know that I'm definite in the fact that the absolute best fish tacos anywhere are at the Flying Fish, downtown lil' ole Little Rock. There are hundreds of "billy bass" hanging on the adoption wall. You take in your singing fish and your name is written under it with the date of adoption. It's priceless. This is not to even mention the "Liars Wall" where you can post pictures of your fish. I'm rambling along and I'm really here to tell you about the tacos!

A slab of grilled tilapia is placed in a crunchy taco shell, topped with a delish coleslaw, then some sort of sauce. Ye Gads. There are three to an order. And though I was stuffed at two, I simply couldn't stop. Then my dear cousin Nathan asked if I got a "shrimp cocktail"? He promptly ordered me one. A fat margarita glass was set in front of me with a tomato looking soup in it. Wow. It had shrimp, pico de gallo, and avacados floating around. I absolutely could have slugged it down like raspberry lemonade!

Yep, I'm going back to Little Rock. The Clinton library just begged to be perused. I loved the river winding thru. It's all quaint and stuff. And I met a new cousin Amanda (Nathan's wife) who was infinitely precious.

My reason for being there made me raw. My cousins Tonisa, Ken and Tana along with their spouses and dear children lost "Mimi". Aunt Margie was here a very short month after being told she had cancer. God was merciful.

There were smiles along with the tears. Somehow God always places things that soothe us in our paths, especially when the path is rough. Flying Fish made me smile.

Losing Aunt Margie cut my soul.