Then I notice the older leaves have seven fingers—two, small extra ones, like little wings, sprouting near the stem. I smile, thinking how my father always told us that one day wings would grow from our shoulder blades nubbins.
I wonder about human potential. Wonder if our hands, too, can grow extra fingers, invisible fingers that sense and wing us into the immanent world around us in ways our visible fingers can’t. I wonder how to grow these extra fingers.
Keep looking. Keep ringing.