When I was a teenager, I was hiking with my family on Cape Cod. I was not a willing participant to these hikes; I would've preferred to be back at our rental cabin with a book.
But my parents were birders, so hiking we did go.
And about a mile up the trail, a woman came rushing up to us, clutching her binoculars to her chest. "Come quickly," she said, with a British accent. "You have to see this!"
This is what birders are like. They are as excited about a life bird as any fan would be spotting their favorite celebrity. You have to see, you have to.
So my parents rushed off with her, and I plodded along behind them.
To find a cluster of Brits huddled in a bird blind, staring at..
And I was a teenager, but I knew better then to mouth off in front of my mom. So I nodded, and smiled, and bit my tongue, until an elderly man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, "Isn't it BEAUTIFUL?"
And I stopped. And looked at it. The way they were. As if it were new. And damned if they weren't right.
I think of that, to this day. That sometimes, you need to step back, and see the world as if it were new. Strange, and haunting, and beautiful, so beautiful.