Ducks

I love ducks. It seems ridiculous that such a common creature could strike my fancy so much. But really... I love ducks. They make me laugh. They fill me with joy.

This is the fourth time that I have spent extended time down by the lake this school year, and always, the ducks come. Apparently I'm some kind of duck magnet. The second I reach the water, they're quacking at me and straining their necks to see if I have food for them. As they float on the gentle waves from a recent speedboat gone by, they quack happily at each other: male and female. Occasionally the male will wander off to explore between the boats in the canal. As soon as the female gets wind of it, she quacks in protest, until the male makes his appearance at her side. Sometimes, they come strutting out of the water together, waddling out of the grass right up to where I'm standing on the edge. Watching them in their hurried waddle, I can't help but smile. They're so awkward. So funny.

I was sitting at a picnic table in my purple coat, sipping a cappuccino, and spending time with a friend. The wind was sometimes rude in its interruptions, but usually just gently played with my loose hair. The clouds covered the sky... Our conversation was slow. Long pauses. But comfortable silence. The ducks came: waddling eagerly, quacking at each other. They spent time in the shadow of the picnic table, avidly eating the grass with gusto. The clouds opened... and slowly the sun began to shine through. It shimmered off the swollen lake, into our faces. As each gust of wind picked up, the seagulls on the beach would fly into the wind, some being blown back, others rising above the current, and dipping down for fish. Our conversation picked up, would taper off as we sat again marveling at lake, sky, birds, ducks.

Peace. Stillness. And always the echoing quack of distant ducks. A soft smile, a tug on the corner of the mouth, broadening into a grin, and a small chuckle. Days like these leave me filled.