I remember the inexplicable awe at the sight of a formation of militant geese, their wings creaking mechanically as their sharp V cut a swatch in a golden autumn sky.

I remember the joyful simplicity of shiny, red rubber rain boots and the sense of beauty and purpose flowing upwards from my toes as I dabbled in puddles with the curiosity of an amateur painter.

I remember the mysterious chestnut spice cabinet that gleamed of polished wood and exotic aroma.

I remember the familiar and reassuring smell of vanilla Christmas cookies dotted with sugary sprinkles glowing like stained glass.

I remember the cold, icy sliver of a scissor’s blade gently brushing my neck and the tickle of hair in my nose when my mother cut my thick, scraggly locks.

I remember the oddly sensual split in the pink bleeding heart flower that descended into an infinite world of precision and delicacy.

I remember the taunting sight of bold, black words marching neatly across the pages of book I could not read, spelling out entire worlds I desperately longed to make my own.

I remember the angry pain of hair knotted thickly with indomitable pine sap.

I remember my unconcealed delight at the sight of a fat gray squirrel’s small black eyes winking down at me with an anxiety I could not quite identify.

I remember the pleasant enlightenment gained by sucking from a brightly colored sippy cup with worldly satisfaction.

I remember the uncontrollable fear and deference to the blue-white bolts of lightning that streaked across the tumultuous summer night.

I remember the odd pity for a tiny garden snail who recoiled so violently when prodded with a twig.

I remember the adoration for the perfect baby cottontails who lined our gravel drive, still, silent sentries noticeable only when their small, white tails betrayed them.

I remember the hilarity of watching twenty tadpoles cluster fearfully together in a far corner of their tank while my mother ran the electric coffeemaker.

I remember the sweet promise of hot chocolate after a walk through a silvery forest enfolded in snow.

I remember vindictive rush gained by staring at the blazing midday sun for the sole pleasure of disobeying my parents, its shape a painful green ghost branded to the inside of my eyelids when I squeezed them shut.

I remember the sad confusion at the sight of a dead blackbird, a lonely and troublesome figure on the patio stones.

I remember the peaceful acknowledgment of life in its entirety as an evening dove’s soft song reverberated in the warm, summer air.

I remember the sense of accomplishment and unbridled happiness achieved from leaping onto a two-foot high concrete wall.

I remember the soft touch of pebbles beneath the lake’s cool surface and the astonishment at seeing my small fingers encrusted with tiny, white bubbles.

And I remember cold rubber rim of an eyepiece pressing painfully into my skin as I stared at the radiant rings of Saturn through my father’s telescope…