Who I Am Pt. 1

It was well into Book 3 of my life. My youngest had just graduated from kindergarten, and we were on our way to a celebratory dinner. The energy in the van was high, full of that specific, bittersweet milestone magic.

​Then, my son shouted from the back seat: "Baby ducks!"

​He had a stuffed duck as a lovey for much of his life, so I was initially distracted, lost in a fleeting wave of nostalgia for his toddler years.

But then he yelled it again, louder this time: "Look, mom! Ducks!"

​I snapped out of the memory and looked ahead.

​Sure enough, a momma duck and her tiny trail of babies were attempting to cross the busiest street in our town. Instinct took over. I pulled ahead and kept my van's butt angled slightly out into the intersection, desperately hoping it would deter cars from zooming past.

​Unfortunately, it did not.

​As a car came barreling down the road, completely oblivious, I laid on my horn. A sharp, helpless blast of sound.

​But it was no use. A baby duck was killed right in front of us.

​In that split second, the world narrowed. I pulled the van over to the side of the road, turned to my kids, and told them firmly to stay put. Then, I ran straight into the middle of a busy, four-lane street.

​Yes, because we had just come from a graduation ceremony, I was wearing my favorite, towering, purple Fluevog shoes.

​But I didn't care. The shoes didn't matter.

​The momma duck had managed to hop up onto the concrete median, but the babies were far too small to make the ledge. They were trapped in the lane, panicked.

​As I tried to corral the ducklings and shield them against the median, cars continued to rush past us. Just as the chaos felt overwhelming, another woman came running into the street toward me, holding a canvas grocery sack.

​"Thank you for stopping," I said relieved.

​"Thank you for helping them," she replied.

​Working together, we quickly scooped the fuzzy, frantic baby ducks into the canvas bag—praying the entire time that the human scent wouldn't deter the momma duck from recognizing them later. We scurried the mom across the second half of the street, carried the bag over, and released the babies into a patch of tall, green grass.

​We held our breath and watched as they aligned themselves into a neat little row and waddled out of sight.

​Together.

​We lost one baby duck that afternoon.

​I wish with everything in me that we could have saved them all. The grief of that one little loss stung, but I am profoundly grateful we were there to save the rest.

​But honestly? That is just who Meghan is.

​I am the person who will always pull over. I am the one who will run out into the middle of a busy road, ruin fancy shoes, to rescue a family of ducks or a displaced turtle. I’ve come to realize I am probably part Lorax

My heart is simply wired to be deeply, fiercely connected to the natural world.

​It can be an exhausting way to live sometimes, carrying that much empathy for the wild things around us. But I am grateful for it. Because the world needs people who look at a helpless situation and refuse to drive past.

​Because if not me, then who?