Last Sunday morning I returned to Dean & Deluca after a fairly lengthy hiatus. No particular reason for the hiatus, other than past Sundays being too hot or too rainy. This Sunday was a heavily overcast day that still threatens to rain, but I braved it anyway.

I was a little later than I usually am, and all the tables were taken by regulars and regular running groups, so I took my coffee and bagel down to the Georgetown waterfront, a second but no less excellent option. And after breakfast and reading, I continued ambling down to the new stone steps where a family fed a large group of ducks. They tore off pieces of their Dean & Deluca muffins (even the ducks are spoiled!) and I sat and enjoyed my zen. Their little boy had a field day chasing the ducks who got too close, and then at the same time wanting to bring them closer with more crumbs: “It’s my turn!”

I also thought of a place I have not thought about in years and years. Back when I was younger, my family and I would take the crusts of near-empty bread loaves to a pond somewhere near our hours to feed the ducks. I can’t remember the last time I was there, and even wonder if I would know how to find my way there directly, but oh I loved going to feed the ducks. I don’t even know if this park had a name, I’m sure it did. But to me it was – and will always be – the duck pond.

They’re kind of cute, aren’t they? With their quacking, little paddling orange feet, bright just below the surface, and shaking their tiny pointed little tails.


Patricia returned to Texas after spending several years on both coasts. She's a writer, amateur photographer and traveler.

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