
As I drove to get my rubber duck tattoo yesterday, I was still debating whether or not I should go through with it. I knew how much I wanted it, I was just unsure of the placement and whether or not it should be in a place that would be visible to everyone.
I found Ali, the tattoo artist through my friend Judi, who referred me to her. Judi and another friend have both gotten them done by Ali and with their recommendation I decided to contact her a few weeks ago. I saw some of her amazing work and thought that my “cute little duck” would be quite minor or insignificant to her. When I told Ali about it and why I chose a duck, she shared a story with me. Her mother’s name was Ping. Some of you might know that there is an old story titled, “Ping, the Little Yellow Duck” written by Marjorie Flack. She told me that she had a tattoo of a duck in memory of her mom. I felt like that was a “sign.”
It was about a forty-five minute drive to Somerville where I had it done. As I put my purse down on the seat, I found a penny laying there. I put it in my pocket and looked up to heaven and said, “thanks mom,” as if it was her giving me permission. As I got off the highway and entered the town of Somerville, the song “Burn” came on the radio. A song played over and over I know, but it was the song that was playing the day I left the cemetery last month, when across the screen of my car radio it read, “ELLIE,” (the name of the artist who sings it.) Of course, I took it as another sign from mom. As I drove through the center of town, the first intersection I came too was, “Davenport Street.” This is the last name of my friend who was the inspiration behind my first tattoo! Of course, I was looking for signs and all of these things would have happened whether I was searching for them or not. It still made me feel good about my decision though.
Last night, Drew and I went to my dad’s house to help with the duck counting process for the “big race.” I figured it was the perfect situation to tell him about the tattoo. He wasn’t as upset as I thought he’d be. I am 44 years old, what could he really do!??! It actually got us all talking about tattoos. My sister wants to get one too. Possibly a duck like mine, or maybe a green ribbon symbolizing Mitochondrial Disease to spread awareness of her son’s illness.
In the end, I am so happy I did it. I can look at it and remember mom. Now, when others see it, if they knew her, they’ll think of her too. If they didn’t know her, they can ask me about it and I will be able to share another great story about my tattoos.