Biking through the park, I saw the same two ducks in the very same spot as I'd seen them now for three weeks in a row. And then I wondered, again, just who they were. Were they lovers? Or were they family? The female duck was obviously injured. and the mallard was obviously taking care of her. He hadn't left her side. Everyday I'd see them by the same puddle in the park. Just a puddle on the sidewalk, left by the rain. But there, together, unable to go further, they would waddle- and they would play. - I would see them playing. Were they brother and sister? Or were they husband and wife? Were they just friends? Whatever they were, the winter had come and gone, and they hadn't migrated away with the other ducks. And now that the weather has warmed again, they still haven't moved to the larger, warmer, pond. Even through the course of hardship,- the mallard hadn't left her. And it occurred to me, again, that if you - like the duck, were to break your wing, or your leg- or your heart, and become bedridden and disabled, to the point that you could not move- not even enough to raise yourself from your hospital bed, to take a look outside, I would stay by you, and would kiss your lips, and would never leave your side- for anything. |