I walk the city streets, seeking solace within this new place—it has been decades since I have been surrounded by so much cement. While I now call this place “home,” I am aware that my residency is transient, that I am simply a visitor. I have been in limbo ever since I moved away from my childhood home years ago. It was then that I first realized everything is temporary: innocence, homes, and life. From an adult perspective, I have come to recognize this constant shift through experience.
What I learned in the garden of my childhood is that I feel most “at home” in the tunnels underneath the ferns. These days, I take walks on the sidewalk instead of in the garden. As I walk, I wonder how we got here; Nature is only available in constructed pockets, cracks, and crevices. I am but a visitor to nature.
