When you look back at the most difficult times in your life and see only one set of footprints in the sand, it’s because I was carrying you.

When also in the sand there’s a pretty great sand castle, at least for someone who isn’t a professional sand-castle builder, that was me, too.

The amazing moat around the sand castle? That was allll me.

When you heard your doorbell ring, and you answered the door but no one was there? Yup, me.

Remember that time when you asked me to watch your piece of pie while you went to the bathroom, and when you got back there was a big bite taken out of it, with a little notch in the same place as my signature missing tooth? That was someone else who had a tooth missing in exactly the same place. I know it was someone else because I was there watching your pie, just like I said I would.

When you look back at all of the most wonderful times in your life, and you see duck prints in the sand next to your footprints, that’s very weird. I wonder if the duck made those times in your life more wonderful, or if it was just a coincidence that he was around.

When you woke up on your birthday a few years ago and there was a giant present topped with a red bow on the kitchen table, and it was exactly what you wanted? And the card was simply signed, “A friend”? And when you asked me about it I told you that it was me?

I just want to reiterate that that was absolutely me.

When you look back at our two sets of footprints in the sand, and there’s a long line in the sand next to our footprints, that was me dragging a stick.

When the line stops, that’s when you told me to cut it out with the stick-dragging.

When the line starts again, that’s when I started doing the stick thing again.

Remember how, on your wedding day, the minister asked the crowd if anyone objected to the union, and someone in the back shouted, “I do for sure!,” and then ran away? I’m starting to think it was that duck.

Remember that time when I was driving and suddenly a possum ran into the street, and I hit it? And the whole way home you cried and said it was your fault for not spotting it earlier? I’ve been thinking about it, and, yes, I think it was definitely you who killed that possum.

When my footprints got farther apart for a while, and then closer together, that was me doing a few silly walks to pass the time. Because, goodness, that was a long walk through the sand.

When your life was saved by a stranger’s kidney donation, that was me. I kept it a secret because I didn’t want you to feel that you owed me anything for it. But now I need a small loan.

When you got divorced and I said, “See, I told you so,” that, again, was likely the duck.

And, when you look back on the most trying time in your life and see that there were footprints in the sand just absolutely everywhere, that was me, chasing a little crab.