Rose Miller 
A couple of weeks ago my son had a therapy appointment and the therapist took my son to a park to play frisbee. As they walked to the park they passed a brook and as usual, my son peeked his head into the brook to see if there were any ducks inside. To his surprise, he heard a duckling calling from the water. My son panicked and the therapist jumped into the brook and pulled out the little duckling.
My son wanted to take him home but the therapist couldn’t allow it without my consent and when he came to my car and told me what happened I agreed to go back and find him. My son has always been obsessed with ducks, he has 3 at his dad’s house and his sad little face was too much for me to bear so we went to find the duckling.
We came back to the area but the duckling was nowhere to be found. We scanned the area going back and forth with no luck until far in the distance a little yellow head bounced up and down from between the grass and my son ran quickly to pick him up and the two were inseparable since.
We named him Lucky. He was lucky we found him when we did. Watching Lucky grazing the grass and squeaking happily made me realize how lucky he really was. We kept Lucky for a week, feeding him. and bathing him, and taking him on walks. The neighbors all came to see our friendly duckling and we grew attached. However, the weekend was approaching and my shift at work wouldn’t allow me to care for a duckling so we sent him with my son to his dad’s house for the weekend. It was hard to let him go after all the cuddles and giggles and having Lucky follow us around wherever we went.
When my son returned from his overnight at Dad’s, he told me that Lucky was a gosling, not a duckling. Apparently, I did everything wrong caring for Lucky to which I told my son I don’t want to hear it. It was amazing how even away from my abuser he still criticizes everything I do. But it was like water off a duck’s back. I know I did my best and Lucky was happy but it’s not legal to keep goslings in New Jersey. It was a sad truth and we had to let Lucky go. I don’t know what will happen to him. I didn’t have the courage to ask but I know that we gave him a second chance at life and that our lives were better because of him.
Sometimes God sends reminders to keep you going. Sometimes something as small as a gosling can change a perspective. I carry Lucky in my heart as a reminder that I’m also lucky to be alive. I was also saved by a therapist all those years ago. (Read more: Therapy- Igniting a Spark Within – The Rose Miller Story) I’m lucky to have gotten out when I did. I know without a doubt that my abuser would have killed me given the chance. No more sleeping in a hallway, or with knives under my pillow. I now tossed the burner phone and fear of his retaliation and criticism, and the way my story unfolded into my new life was incredible. Too incredible not to share.
Today life is better than those dark days, I also got a second chance at life. A better one. I miss Lucky and his happy-go-lucky ways. It didn’t take much to make him happy, and I know it doesn’t take much to make me happy either, and may we both continue to always be lucky.
