In the few days after chemo we like to go to the park and feed the ducks. It is a calm, quiet time as I sit on a bench and coax the ducks closer and closer. I talk to them. They talk to me. They are quite wary and it takes a lot to even get them out of the water and waddling up around where I sit. Sometimes they won't come out at all and I end up coming to them. We work at it. It's a dance. Pure poetry and poop. I add the former, they contribute the latter.
Usually it is just me and ducks. After the last chemo, however, a goose joined the group and we worked together at trusting each other. At first Goose stayed on the fringes. Eventually, Goose moved closer. Goose was so pretty and calm and I so wanted to bond. It took time and sacrifice on both our parts, but we got there. When I got home, I sent this picture to my sister.
This was her reply:
I LOVED the picture of you and the goose! I am so proud of the goose for taking bread right out of your hand and of YOU for having the guts to have a picture taken with your butt in the foreground.
See? She knows.