Jonathan was a bit surprised some years ago when one of the items I chose to bring home as we cleaned out my parents’ place was a three-foot-high wooden pelican. Generally it’s the kind of clunker one gets as a wedding gift. What the heck are we going to do with THIS thing?
None of us ever lived in Florida. There is no meaningful family lore behind Mr. Pelican; I have no idea where they found him or when. Nevertheless, he wears a charming expression, sitting there contentedly by my piano. A serene groundedness about his face and posture calms me. Maybe he just finished a good meal, or is keeping watch over the surf for the next one. He’s in no hurry. Maybe my Mom saw the same something there, and he kept quiet vigil over her house too.
It doesn’t matter. He makes me happy. Everyone should have a whimsical friend or two, just to keep us company for no special reason.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 353: 164 words, TOTAL = 58,012; 1,988 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs.