Dear Ducks

Dear Ducks Who Live in My Bathroom,

One day, a few weeks from now, you will be ‘Ducks Who Live in My Backyard’ and my sink will no longer be clogged with your feed.

One day, a few months from now, we will have finally dug the pond for you to play in, and bought, at the very least, fifty dollars worth of dragonfly larvae to try to keep an eye on the mosquito population.

Perhaps, one day, a few months from now, is when we will have finally gotten the bathroom clean as well. (Or perhaps a few years from now.)

One day you will rush to the gate to greet us.

One day you will pull up our tomato plants that we worked so hard to grow,

and we will be upset,

but we will think back to when you were just the ducks who lived in the bathroom,

your tiny flat baby feet smacking the linoleum,

your soft downy fluff warm and cozy,

the way you flip over topsy-turvy if you eat a little too much,

how you think the baby’s step stool is the perfect place to practice your flying from one foot (or quite a few flat baby duck feet) off the ground

and instead of being mad we will just laugh and plant more ‘maters.

One day we’ll be able to shower or take baths without cleaning up your poop, your food, old half eaten clover flowers or sand grit.

We’ll be able to floss without stepping in your overturned water bowls.

We’ll miss your soft sleepy peeping, the way you snuggle into our hands or our feet and tickle us with your soft smooth bills.

We may not miss your insistent, upset hungry peeping. Especially at 1 am on a work night.

But we might just miss that too, actually.

Dear Ducks Who Live in My Bathroom,

You three are an unexpected blessing, an impulsive decision, a chaotic mess, a chattering, chittering, peeping, stomping, fluffy new adventure.

Sincerely,

A Person Who Has Ducks Living in Their Bathroom

(p.s. you can stay babies for a little while longer, if you want)