This little duck has lived a long life. It was a gift from my friend’s 90-year-old father, twenty years ago. I brought it home with me from Adelaide.

Since then, it has faded, crossed borders, and survived the not-so-gentle test of doggie teeth. It has been loved, and because it was loved, it has been knocked down, scratched, and cracked.

My recent restoration wasn’t about making it new again, but about caring for its story.

It reminded me: some pieces aren’t fixed—they’re carried, healed. 🦆