I haven’t written of this before. When I was young I went out the back door of my grandparents’ house and walked across the long green yard, crawled under the farmer’s fence, wandered through overgrown pasture and climbed atop that far from home outcropping of granite. I told no one, nobody saw me leave and I was beyond earshot. On the rock I sat quietly and looked around and joined the peace.

After being eventually spotted by family I was called back and returned to the proper home of a child. All was well.

I may be back inside now, but the boy still sits on the rock and looks out across pastures and peers into woodlands, marveling at the gushing of the universe revealing itself right before my eyes. I haven’t needed anything more, just the occasional chance to look out again and welcome the gushing.