The rubber duck sat on the bathtub, staring at the wall, day in, day out.
It saw Jamie’s parents as they showered. It didn’t judge. It simply observed.
It floated with Jamie through childhood, every bath.
It watched Jamie grow and grow.
It stayed on the edge when Jamie stopped taking baths.
It floated in the tub when Jamie’s parents took baths for aches and pains.
It floated in the tub when Jamie started taking baths again.
It saw everything, and didn’t say anything. It simply was, delighting in the change, accepting of the time along. The rubber duck had what it needed, no more and no less.