Free Lessons From Ducks by Tammy Robinson Page A

ever feel, you know, like you can’t handle things and need a bit of extra help. Don’t be afraid to ask, it’s what we’re here for. And in the meantime, ditch the car and get out more often into the sunshine and fresh air. Nature really can help with achieving a more serene state of mind.” He’d rummaged in a drawer underneath his desk – disorganised, she noticed with indifference. Loose papers, pens, paperclips and, bizarrely, a bright orange golf ball – and pulled a brochure out with a flourish. “Here,” he wiped something that looked suspiciously like it had come out of someone’s nose – but which she hoped was something less disgusting, like glue - off with his sleeve and passed it over.
    “What is it?” she asked. She really didn’t have the energy for reading. Or eating, or talking for that matter. But the doctor was only trying to help, and if she didn’t attend these scheduled appointments – marked out on the calendar that hung on her pantry door in big black block letters - it was entirely possible someone would call in the men with the white coats. So she went to humour them.
    “Read it if you get a minute,” he suggested. ‘It’s a relatively new theory, or movement, I’m not sure exactly what you call it. My wife swears by it though.”
    Anna looked down at the brochure in her hands.
    ‘Mindfulness’, it said in wavy blue letters. ‘Experience the conscious life.”
    It sounded like something that people with more joy in their lives did, she’d thought, but she tucked it into the purse at her feet to keep him happy. She had no intention of reading it, and it sat forgotten amongst the old tissues, coins, loose tampons and other assorted detritus that make up the bottom of a woman’s handbag. There it stayed for at least four months, until the next appointment.
    That time, a vase of lilies graced the table in the corner of the waiting room and before she sat Anna bent over to smell and admire them. Unfortunately she misjudged the distance and some of the thick orange pollen that coated the stamen brushed off on her nose. Immediately she sneezed, then sneezed again.
    Eyes watering, she scanned the room for a tissue but there were none in sight. What kind of doctors’ office doesn’t have a box of tissues on offer she wondered? She looked questioningly at the receptionist, who ignored her and kept her eyes fixed on the computer screen directly in front. There was no way the girl could have failed to see what happened, the room was barely big enough to swing a cat. Anna sighed and rolled her eyes at the only other inhabitant of the room - a man in his fifties flicking through one of the magazines off the table - and said in a loud whisper, “I bet she’s checking her Facebook page.”
    His smile floated over her briefly without landing before he returned his attention to his magazine, obviously not wanting to be a part of any anti-establishment conspiracy or ruckus that she might cause. 
    Anna took a seat and rummaged inside her handbag. She knew there was bound to be a tissue in there somewhere; there always was even if she couldn’t remember ever putting one in. It was just one of life’s tiny mysteries. Aha! She triumphantly pulled one out and with it came the brochure she had forgotten all about. She had time to kill now, she figured, plus she was slightly worried that the doctor might quiz her on it, so she sat back, figuring she’d scan the pertinent details. That was soon forgotten as she became engrossed in the words on the pages in front of her. They connected. Somehow, they became more than mere words; each one was like a light bulb illuminating her mind. She didn’t even realise how excited she was getting or that she was becoming ever more vocal until a particularly loud “Of course!” sprang forth from her lips and the man got up hurriedly on the pretence of switching magazines but after choosing one he moved to a seat further away from her instead of returning