I tiptoed up to the dock, holding my breath and hoping the wind wouldn't gust unexpectedly. Around me boats sailed and children shouted and dogs barked, but for now this part of the lake was still, barring the lapping of the water against the bank. A sudden breeze made my skirt flap around my legs and I winced inwardly, but the duck in front of me turned away and quacked quietly again, seemingly unperturbed.
I had come to the lake after work to warm up and calm down, goals that don't usually go hand in hand but you would understand if you worked there. Well, you would understand if you worked there and were me. I'd been wrapped in a blanket all day, but I still felt chilled to the bone after I stepped out into the hot summer weather and so I had set off to find something to do. Something warm to do, and something that did not involve blushing, as every day at work involves too much blushing for my own comfort.
I won't go into that.
I had actually planned to drive home, but in order to go home I have to cross a bridge. This bridge goes over a lake, the biggest lake in the area, and part of a park. And I was suddenly intrigued, and so I stopped and grabbed a magazine and my keys (I purposely left the phone) and went to sit on a dock. My feet had warmed up considerably by the time I reached the banks of the lake -- I hate shoes -- but I still felt a chill, like the one that you get when you first wake up no matter what time of the year it is. The wooden dock seemed the most welcoming, partially because I like things that are not made of plastic, but mostly because there were boaters on the plastic docks and they were shouting and I did not want to have to deal with poor attempts at flirting while I was reading The Philosopher's Magazine. This is because I'm going to end up a spinster aunt (it doesn't matter that I don't have siblings) with nine cats. But that really isn't the point, because when I reached the dock I noticed a mallard duck standing on the end, preening and surveying the waves.
My goal, because I have to have goals, was to sit down without disturbing the duck. I assumed he would fly off, of course, but it would be a nice story to tell if he didn't. So I approached the dock, and took a step on, and another, until I realized that of course he wouldn't be scared. None of those ducks are, they think humans have bread.
This was disappointing, but not for long. Because the duck (I feel like he should be The Duck by now) stood perfectly still as I walked the length of the dock, only turning his head when I got within three feet of him. I sat down at that point and tucked my skirt under me, as it has an annoying habit of flying up at inconvenient times, and opened my magazine. After a few minutes The Duck, too, seemed to become comfortable, and he sat down as well, quacking all the while at the banks. After a few minutes I finally realized what he was muttering about and felt very clever, because of course dozens of ducklings paddled away into the deep water and the mothers floated nearby in a protective circle. The Duck seemed to be a sentinel -- he flew off a few times, and whenever he did the ducklings were herded quickly back to the waiting rocks on the shore.
I don't really know why I'm telling this story. The Duck did come back to stay, and brought three of the females with him, and they hopped up onto the dock awkwardly and shook their whole bodies and preened every bit of themselves, but it wasn't particularly exciting. The wind was blowing and the water was cool, but it wasn't spectacular. The sun was a little too hot and my feet fell asleep. But the ducks swayed to the same lapping of the waves that I did, and never seemed bothered. On the way back a golden retriever, still wet from the lake, came up beside me and leaned his head on my thigh as I watched the wind flap the sails of the boats around in jerky patterns. I felt very accepted and a little more like I was whole than I had before.
My best friend told me recently that it's interesting how affected I am by my surroundings -- not by what people think of me, but just by the attitudes of the people who happen to be in line in front of me at Chick-fil-A, or how the barista treats me at Starbucks, or even by the weather. I don't know that I'd ever thought about that before. But I'm starting to think it might be a good thing.
