It seems fairly innocuous just sitting there on the end table. It's small, brown, and wooden. But encased in that inanimate little object, if only for me, is the most powerful emotion of all: love. Everybody has symbols and artifacts that mean something to them; toys that carry memories of good times, books that remind us of favorite teachers, clothes that we wore during emotional times. This little wooden duck holds the essence of warmth for me. It is the core upon which I know I am loved.

I was moving out from my parents' home and into my first independent abode. My parents were against it; I don't even remember why now. They refused to help me in any way. I spent most of the morning packing things up. Then I rented a moving truck and called a friend over to help me move the bigger items. As we were carrying items out to the van, I saw my mother take a big cardboard box, go into the kitchen and start putting assorted kitchen items in it. After many trips back and forth to the van, it was finally time for me to head out. My mom walked up to me and silently handed me the closed up cardboard box. I thanked her and then left.

I arrived at my new place and started unpacking. I opened the box from my mom and started going through it. I was surprised to find that in amongst the pots and pans, was this carved, wooden duck. I thought it was a really strange item to put with the kitchenware. Then it dawned on me that my parents still loved me. Embodied in this little duck are the feelings of my family towards me. I left home, but I had a piece of them with me so I would never have to feel lonely or unloved; the warmth of their love is with me always.

As a rule, I don't like clutter and I rarely keep anything for very long. This duck, however, this carved, wooden possession, will never become clutter. I have carried it with me to every place I've lived in for the past 17 years. What's in a wooden duck? Just wood for most, much more for me.