Wonder came so much more easily to me as a child. I rush so quickly through days now that I'm rarely in awe of the details of life; the night sky, veins of a leaf, the rhythm of air in and out of my chest--I move through months without even noticing them. Some days, though, it still creeps up on me. When I feel that breeze, and see that sunset, and pick up that leaf... it seems the world opens up again and fills itself with mystery. Of all the things that could be said about me, let it never be said that I marveled too little at how beautiful and intricate this life is; wonder is too, too good.