Duck food
Today, cleaning out a duck cage. The softened pellets of duck chow being swept towards the drain by the hose. Manuevering around a forked log behind a white duck-box. Wearing black rubber boots and long rubber gloves, though they do little to keep my feet and hands dry. Much less my eyes. I suddenly had the urge to tell Aunt Dorothy all about my summer job and to thank her for all her encouragement when I was a kid. After all, she was one of the most influential people in my childhood when it comes to respect for everything wild. I wanted to call her right then, or send a card, or anything. But the closest I could come would be talking to her There. It's not the same of course.
This would be the very first time that the realization that Aunt Dorothy is actually gone. She is no longer in this world, and because I would hardly ever see her Here to begin with, it never really hit me. Now it has. While leaning over a white wooden box, at least two salty drops mixed with the water carrying the food across a cement floor. While leaning over a white wooden box, tears began to well up and mix with the food travelling across the wet cement floor.
This would be the very first time that the realization that Aunt Dorothy is actually gone. She is no longer in this world, and because I would hardly ever see her Here to begin with, it never really hit me. Now it has. While leaning over a white wooden box, at least two salty drops mixed with the water carrying the food across a cement floor. While leaning over a white wooden box, tears began to well up and mix with the food travelling across the wet cement floor.