About 10 years ago, we found Ducky sitting on a picnic table in a campground in southern Colorado. I put him on the dashboard of the truck, where he has ridden for years.

In 2015, at the last minute before leaving on a trip to Peru, I grabbed Ducky from the dash. Anytime he came out, he brought smiles to faces. I remember passing through security in a small airport, seeing bored guards light up and grin at each other as Ducky came through the scanner.

It was only natural that Ducky traveled with us to Iceland. For no good reason, he remained hidden much of the trip. However, the day I rode shotgun beside our guide and van driver, Daniel, Ducky took his place on the dash for the next few days.

Somehow, I forgot him. Somehow, no one noticed him on the dash. That is until Daniel was returning the van. I wish I had jumped in my rental car and braved the trip to Reykjavik to rescue Ducky, but I did not. I accepted too easily that he would be fine in Iceland, his ultimate migration. Sorry, old friend.