I think of the children who will never know, intuitively, that a flower is a plant’s way of making love, or what silence sounds like, or that trees breathe out what we breathe in.
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Owen Cason is the pseudonym of a writer who dreams of moving to Maine and never paying for parking again. He still has his Complete Calvin and Hobbes hardcover box set from childhood and plans to give it to his niece and nephew in a few years.
I drop by on a Saturday. Your mom lets you answer my knock on the apartment door. The cap of your gastrostomy tube is outlined against your unicorn T-shirt.