It floats on the surface, bobbing with the little waves, occasionally upending itself with the wind. It echoes the visitors from earlier this year, in happier and hardier and more colorful form. Best of all, it gives cheer and amusement to those who gaze upon it.
This is our Rubber Duckie, a larger version fit for a pool versus a bath. I once used it to obscure my privates in an otherwise-naked pool shoot. (I’m not going to make it easy for you to find those shots – peruse the archives and type some words into the search engine and see if you can locate them. It’s easier than the quest for Carmen Sandiego – has she even been found yet?)
As for its wisdom, return to the first paragraph. Everything you need to know about life, and navigating its perilous waters, is contained there. This duck floats on the surface – it doesn’t go deep, doesn’t make waves, doesn’t cause trouble. It keeps things light and flexible, bobbing with the waves instead of fighting them, going with the flow instead of against the current, finding the easy way through rather than seeking out unnecessary challenges. It also upends itself from time to time, turning over on its side, or even going completely upside down. It doesn’t always keep itself perfectly upright. It doesn’t keep itself perfect at all. It allows the wind to wreck it a little, to fall down, sometimes face down, because it knows it can right itself again.
Where was this ducky when I was growing up? Where was it when I needed the lesson? Maybe it knew not to arrive until this year, when the student was finally ready for the teacher.
