Ava and the Pond Letter

Ava was folding a paper boat on the edge of the duck pond. She pressed each corner flat with her thumb.

"This one is for Grandpa," she told the ducks. "He lives far away, and I miss him."

The ducks did not answer. They were busy with the reeds.

Ava wanted to send the boat all the way to Grandpa's house. Inside it she had put a tiny drawing of the two of them eating pears. She set the boat on the water and gave it a push.

The boat spun around and came right back.

"Try again," said Ava. She pushed it harder. The boat went out, wobbled, and slid into a floating leaf. It sat there like a cup in a puddle.

Ava reached for it with a stick. The boat slipped away. She reached again. It slipped away again.

"Come here, boat," she said. "Come here, boat."

A small brown duck swam over. She did not care about the boat. She was looking for a place to nap. She tucked her head under her wing right beside the leaf.

"Don't sit on it," said Ava. "It's going to Grandpa."

The duck blinked one eye. Then she paddled in a slow circle, and little ripples ran out across the water. The ripples bumped the leaf. The leaf turned. The boat drifted loose and floated straight to Ava's feet.

Ava laughed. "You did it!" she said. The duck only yawned. Her yawn made a funny squeak, like a rubber toy.

Ava picked up her boat. She thought for a moment. Then she sat down, tucked it under her chin, and looked at the drawing of the pears.

"Grandpa can't get the boat," she said slowly. "But I can tell him about it on the phone tonight. I'll tell him about the duck who squeaked."

She set the boat down in the grass, right where she could see it. The pond went quiet. The brown duck floated, round and soft as a loaf of bread, and Ava hummed Grandpa's pear song until the sun went low.