"Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits."

I don't know how many time I heard my father say that.  As a teenager that quote would send me into an instant eye roll and shake of my head.

Now I have an appreciation for that sentiment.

7:15 a.m., at the park, sitting on a bench that overlooks the duck pond.  I left my camera home.  I didn't want the ever vigilant state that comes with carrying a camera.

The swimming hole scent of my childhood rolling off the water and the quiet rustle of the leaves lulled me into a quiet reverie.

Around 20 ducks bobbed on the water's surface and "spoke" back and forth with their "acking" sound.  Why, I wondered, do we attribute a "quack" to a duck?  I have never in my life heard a duck say "quack".

One duck circled near me, looked directly at me, tilted his head and as clear as a bell said "quack, quack".  This duck excels at enunciation.

I continued to just sit and let the world ebb and flow around me.  I tried to keep it that way but the mind, being what it is, kept formulating thoughts.

In a way I feel like a kid who has played hooky.  There is that absolute delight when the bus pulls away from you and you spend the next couple of hours celebrating your freedom but as time passes you start to worry and feel guilty.  By mid-day you are kicking yourself for skipping school.

Does every newly retired person feel this?

I am loving my freedom.  I can fill my time easily.  But there is a part of me that is struggling with wanting to get back on the bus.