maleficentmoi

I believe I truly am a wimp. Today, driving in Sonoma, the truck in front of me came to a quick stop for what appeared to be no apparent reason. The lane next to me was completely wide open, so I pulled over, driving cautiously; I had no clue what the truck was up to. Then I saw it: the smallest parade my tired eyes have ever held witness to. A female duck was crazily leading her one baby across the wide road and, thanks to the benevolent truck, was directly in front of me. The scene floored me: the mom, cackling through her dark beak, webbed feet flopping, and, most impacting upon me, her tiny little babe moving so desperately behind the mom, his mouth wide with fear, that it looked practically crazed by energy. I could almost picture a word balloon above the baby's head saying, "Don't you ditch me, mommy!" Happily, thanks to the roadblock I and the truck set up, the pair made it to the curb safely. How it went from there, I couldn't say... What it pains me to admit is that I almost burst into tears watching that little baby duck trying so frantically to keep up with his mom, trusting in her (clearly deranged) decisions blindly. It was a microcosm of our own reality; the faith we, as kids, put into adults. I had no flashbacks of my youth, nor did I pretend all would be well for the baby duck from then on, but it still left a mark on me. Yeah, the little fucker was impossibly cute, but it was his determination, represented in such a micro form, that got to me. It's hard not to interfere and play protector for the little guys in the world, sometimes. It was so difficult to drive on after seeing the pair safely cross the road. It felt, in a fashion, like leaving a movie that you're enjoying way before it ends. To be blunt, it felt worse than that, but that's just me being a wimp again. You rock on, you little baby duck, motherfucker!! Rock on...