Mother's Day was drop-off-day. (Oh, and just for the sake of redemption, may I mention that this year's mother's day came with bells, whistles, boys and a hammock! And get this: I did no thing all day long. No cooking, no diapering, no looking for lost boy-shoes before church... so they went barefooted I noticed... no nothing. It was great. But wait… isn’t that the definition of SABBATH? Thy shalt do no work... not even if thou happens to have "mother-status". When did observance of that commandment get changed from once a week to once a year for mothers??? Something's not right with this picture.)
But back to the ducks: so we left them. Just like that. Bye-bye duckies! They watched in dismay as we left them to be big girls all by themselves. Naturally it was a sad occasion and many tears were shed. Surprisingly all the tears came from one pair of eyes: mine. Yes, I cried all the way home, all evening at home and well into the next morning. All I could think about was: if it is so hard to let ducks go… how hard will it be to let BOYS go? The tears dried a little when Beth Marchette - their new host - called to report that they survived their first night in the country AND attracted some additional duck-friends! (Are they good friends? Will they show them great and wonderful ponds they do not yet know? Will they challenge them to play chicken with coyotes? Or with duck hunters??? Or will they share wisdom and tell them to stay put for their family will want to come see them and the Marchettes will feed them??)
We went to visit them today. They were there and they were happy. They looked different, though… less familiar... more like a family, but less like our family. It was obvious that they didn't mind our presence, but they also did not need our presence. I did not cry. It was good.
Maybe…just maybe… the boys will grow into a different look… a different familiarity… a different way of relating… and it will be good…