curiosity
— a small flame that flickers at the edge of the unknown, always leaning closer to see what lies beyond
i found a strawberry growing beside the porch.
it was hiding beneath the leaves, perfectly red and round, as if someone had tucked a tiny jewel into the grass. i knelt beside it, watching the ants wander around its little green stem.
probably a bird carried the seed here, then it simply decided that this was a nice place to grow.
i picked the smallest berry and put it on a saucer in the kitchen. i didn't eat it.
later, i followed the little stream behind the house to see where it went. i have passed that stream many times, but today it sounded different somehow — as if it were whispering about a place i had never been.
it led me to a patch of white flowers hidden beneath the ferns. there were so many of them. they looked like little stars that had fallen from the sky during the night and decided to stay among the moss.
i also found a family of ducklings resting beside the water. they didn't seem frightened of me at all. one of them waddled after me for a little while, following my shadow as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
on the way back, i noticed something else.
there was a narrow path between two very old trees, almost completely covered by ivy. i don't remember seeing it before. it disappeared into the deeper part of the woods.
i stood there for a long time.
i could hear the stream behind me, the leaves above me, and somewhere far away, the faint sound of something i couldn't quite name.
there are still so many things in these woods that i haven't met yet, secrets that seem to move just beyond the edge of sight.
sometimes i think the forest is waiting for me to remember something.
tomorrow, i think i'll take the other path.