A Love Letter to the Tiny Duck I Found on My Desk

A small, blue, plastic duck graces my desk this morning. Its beak is orange and its eyes beam with manufactured excitement.

It defiantly screams, “I will not be tamed, Corporate America! I will not depart from childlike whimsy.”

This is a message I can wholeheartedly get behind.

There’s no need for me to wax poetic on the subject of the working world. It’s a topic that has been beaten to death by writers, philosophers, and bedraggled coworkers for centuries. There’s always something to complain about, and there’s always something to be grateful for. 

What I will say is that when this tiny duck appeared on the outstretched, green leaf of my orchid, I felt a flurry of joy. 

I love you, little duck. I don’t know who put you here, or what their intentions were. I don’t know where you were manufactured, or who dabbed careful paint on your beak. I don’t know why I find the swoop of your tail so endearing. 

But as you perch, I hope you consider your job well done. You’ve successfully made this office a little less drab, and reminded a Young Creative (yes, that’s me) that merrymaking is a task that must be pursued in earnest. 

May I one day be the person to plant tiny ducks that brighten someone else’s day.