Today I saw the most beautiful thing. I walked back to the creek where I had seen the turtles and ducks just the other day— the turtles and ducks that saved us at the beginning of the pandemic, when the whole world turned upside down.
I stood on the bridge, peering over the railing. No turtles. No ducks. Perhaps it has gotten too cold, I thought, which sent my mind down a bunny trail, wondering at what particular temperature a duck begins to think that it’s getting a bit chilly.
I was about to turn and leave when something inside me whispered, “Stay.” Then, as I looked up, I saw them: 8 ducks waddling around in the grass on the other side of the creek, in someone’s front yard. I watched them for a moment, and then the beautiful thing happened:
a woman walked out of the front door of the house with the yard filled with ducks. She pulled her bathrobe tighter around herself before she flung out her hand to toss something. I saw a spray of what must have been duck feed scatter about the yard. The ducks waddled about, eating the breakfast she’d served as she turned without a word to walk back into the house.
The ducks ate their fill before making their way back to the water.
I don’t know much about this elder, except that when she came out the front door, the ducks were already waiting for her.
I tucked this knowing deep in my heart, and I was fed, too.
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