years ago, on a favorite wet muddy spring hike in oregon, i looked into a puddle and saw a story.

right below us was an upside-down version of our world. a small boy was climbing a tree in that world – tree top to tree trunk. when i saw him, he was almost to the roots, at which point he would be able to peer into our world.

when i saw this scene, it made me wish i knew the rest of the story.

i probably never will.

like poems, my tiny stories arrive in the form of what feel like actual downloads into my brain; if i don’t write them down immediately, i lose them.

(i’ve tried to write them myself, but the difference in quality between what i’ve written and what i’ve been given is unmistakable.)

but maybe what i received that day was enough.

maybe the gift lies not in knowing how (or where) the story will go.

maybe the gift lies in a moment of possibility & of wonder.