What began in fellowship of open arms, broad smiles and welcoming words soon fell into routine. The wonder of the inchworm’s humped-back crawl faded as attention drifted elsewhere. Like a prairie dog village, heads sank into oblivious existence as curiosity waned.
I could not describe the Bavarian village, framed by towering Alpine mountains and last seen as a child, well-enough so you’d know it were you there. But the wonder remains as deeply imprinted today as on that seven-year old’s soul.
Susanna’s soul left this world thirty-nine years ago but she remains within reach, though just out of touch.
Thrilled by the primeval forest and the bubbling, babbling brook with its ancient, polished stones, the cold, clear water swirling around my ankles, the touch of minnows nibbling my toes, snow-capped peaks soaring deep into my imagination, and the laughter of a family picnic, I knew as a four-year old that…
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