Big Bob

by

Tracy Grimaldi

Sparkling white streetlights flickered and danced in the soft hue of dusk. I checked my watch, I needed to hurry. He would be waiting, and as good friends do, he would keep his vigil, hoping I would come. I pictured his face and smiled. I'd grown to love the times we spent together. We seemed to share so many common fondnesses, the gentle breezes that kissed us as they whispered across the lake, or a soft rain as it fell against the leaves, tapping out it's soothing song. The hours we passed sitting at the lake's edge in comfortable silence were a healing balm, bathing the lonely places in my soul. I rounded a bend and there, next to a worn wooden bench, he stood. Big Bob. The old Muscovy duck stopped pecking in the grass, lifted his head in my direction, then ran toward me, in a waddling, awkward sort of way. His wiggling tail told me he was happy to see me - a kindness I had long ago forgotten existed. I sat on the bench and as I had done so many times before, reached into my pocket and pulled out some corn bread. Bob nuzzled my hand for the treat, making little contented sounds, as if, now, everything was alright, and as I smoothed my hand across his iridescent feathers, I felt the same.

© 2004-2006 True Life Stories