Something is There

Like my brother, I have always loved animals.

I would spend hours watching ants make their steady journeys across the patio, or building tiny stick homes for the delicate sow bugs that curled softly in the palm of my hand. In the spring, I would run to the edge of the pond just to watch the dreamy white clouds of eggs floating on the dark water.

Everything around me felt alive. The buzzing, the humming, the quiet cracking of branches—all of it fed something deep within me, something wild and awake.

Even now, I find myself drawn to that same edge of mystery. I still feel that childhood wonder rise up in me—the sudden leap of a frog, the widening rings across the pond, the sun setting in soft washes of pink and orange.

A rustle in the forest. Nothing visible, and yet… something is there.

And in that moment, something deep inside me comes alive.