By Lorry Myers
I’d been gone longer than usual and was eager to sleep in my own bed. It was late when I pulled in and unloaded my suitcase that was heavy with dirty clothes and souvenirs. I wheeled that suitcase into my kitchen and stopped.
On my kitchen counter was note.
I quickly recognized my oldest daughter’s handwriting, and the signatures of my seven- and four-year-old grandchildren. The three-year old had also scribbled what I 
assumed was his name and at the bottom, my youngest daughter had penned the baby’s name so she would be included.
“Dear Queenie, you have been ducked! Around your house, we have hidden one hundred mini ducks and now, you have to find them all. This is what you get when you have been gone too long.”
Included with this note was a homemade chart with ten columns and ten lines. “Don’t forget to find one hundred ducks. Check them off as you find them.”
This was serious business.
I stood in my kitchen with my hand still on my suitcase and looked around. Quickly I found a duck on top of my refrigerator, one on my sink faucet, one on my cabinet knob, and one in the center of the dining table.
That’s a hiding place?
The mini ducks were all different colors; pink and green and blue and yellow. I found them in my silverware drawer, in my dish drainer, and in my coffee pot. I spied one on top of the butter dish, inside the egg tray, and four of them inside my wine drawer.
Like I would look there.
One duck led to another duck and despite the late hour, I couldn’t stop looking. By the time I wheeled my suitcase down the hall and crawled into bed, I’d found seventeen ducks, one of them underneath my pillow.
Only eighty-three left to find.
The next morning, I did a walk-thru of the rest of my house and found twenty-one ducks that were sitting around waiting for me. Now I was at thirty-eight.
Sixty-two ducks to go.
I was faithful to the chart the kids left and kept the found ducks in a Tupperware container. The search continued as the ducks now became more challenging to find. I found ducks in my makeup tray, in my band-aid box, and in my tool drawer. I sat on one, almost swallowed one, and just about cooked one in my oven.
Roasted duck still counts.
By the end of the week, I’d found all but thirteen baby ducks in all sorts of common and uncommon places. Then, my grandchildren came to play and while I was reviewing the chart with my oldest grandson, the two middle ones discovered the Tupperware full of those eighty-seven colorful ducks. While their Queenie was distracted, these two proceeded to hide the ducks.
Again.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.
