[As an aside (or in this case is it an atop?): The deadline for entering the photo caption contest to be eligible to win a $25 Amazon gift card is Sunday, May 3! Enter! (Entries are like orgasms; multiples are encouraged. I can’t believe I just wrote that.) Win! Spend! Stimulate the economy before the pig cooties get you! By the way, I’d totally like to shoplift the credit for that one, but the term pig cooties originated with a tweet from Sarah J. Clark. She’s funny. Click the pink pig cooties link. Suburban Correspondent is funny, too.]
Where was I?
What you came here for . . .
With katydidnot’s express written consent (I saved the email, so don’t even try to sue me because I still have mad laywer skillz, and, also, California is a community property state so the story is half mine anyway.), I am sharing with you the love story she wrote for Laura’s birthday (earlier this year).
once upon a time there were two lovely girls who were very best friends and swore a pinkie oath to be best friends forever.
they grew up and lived together in new york city, where they were very busy, important people with no time for cat’s cradle or shrinky dinks or paper chains. they often felt caught up in the rat race, but they never called it that, because it offended their sensibilities on behalf of the rats of the world. the girls often bemoaned their lack of time to enjoy the simplest and best things in life.
until one january, when on a whim, one girl bought the other a duck for her birthday. you see, the other girl had always loved ducks. rubber ducks, duck pancakes and duck sculptures. but this? was a real duck. a quacking, waddling, fuzzy yellow baby duckling.
the duck lived in their loft apartment in soho, frequenting the bathtub and kitchen sink until she was three months old, and had lost her downy baby fuzz and grown into a beautiful tawny duck.
the girls were always sad when they saw their duck sit on the windowsill day after day watching the city. they imagined that their duck was wishing she could be a pigeon, even if just for a moment.
these two girls knew things. they understood things more than ordinary people. and they knew that the duck needed her own pond. they knew it was time to let the duck go. and on one cool march day, on the one girl’s birthday, actually, they drove to a beautiful country farm in vermont to set their duck free.
it was getting to be spring and the farm’s pond was lovely and warm and still, seemingly waiting for the city duck to arrive.
the girls each gave their duck a kiss on the head before they set her down on the bank, and they held hands while they watched their duck spread her wings and run clumsily to splash into the still water.
one girl laughed as she watched her duck push her head under the water while her tail bobbed on the surface. and the other girl cried when their duck looked back at them only once before before swimming away to the other bank.
as one girl wondered why her friend was able to watch duck swim away without a tear, the other girl took a very small box out of the pocket of her coat. it was wrapped in yellow “quacky birthday” paper and was tied with a lovely red ribbon. she handed it to her friend who pulled the ribbon off, looping it around her wrist, and eased the lid off the box.
inside, was one very old looking key on a flimsy ring with a cardboard circle attached to it by string that said “the cabin”. one girl turned the other around and pointed to a small, ramshackle little cabin on the far bank and said only “happy birthday”.