Duck Walk

Porter, Jenna, and I had some time to kill. So I went right to what I know, or knew, from when my kiddies were little. We went for a walk.

Those neural pathways dug many years ago still exist. It was second nature to herd two toddlers down the sidewalk, guide them off neighbor's lawns and past the guy putting in sprinklers and all his hoses, and down to the duck pond.

In our neighborhood, the duck pond is where the sidewalk ends. It is behind a chain link fence and a rail guard. For the best view, you have to stand on the rail guard and peer through the overgrown trees and weeds. It may not seem like much, but when there are little ones involved, it is a destination. Within walking distance.

I lifted both Porter and Jenna up on the rail guard and remembered how it was to have my arms full of kids. The three of us stood there for a bit, the kids leaning back against me, and it was good. But no ducks greeted us (flown south already?) so the kids were on to something else. Like trying to sneak down the street instead of getting back on the sidewalk. Or walking on to someone's lawn while watching for my reaction. That too was oh so familiar.

This little niece and nephew of mine remind me about times past. And make me wonder if I didn't thoroughly enjoy it while it was happening. But like most moms of young children, I was in major survival mode at the time. A walk to the duck pond was merely a means of survival, with a bonus of fresh air, exercise, and nature. I think Porter and Jenna are my bonus--a second chance to go see the ducks.