I have a confession

It's something I've been covering up for years.

First, I used my own children as an excuse. Now I use my grandchildren. But I can't keep denying it forever.

I am a child at heart.

When I was young, I would stare for hours at the clouds, the horned toads, the spider building her web. Then I thought I had to "grow up." Grown ups didn't lie on their belly in the grass staring at clover flowers. Grown ups didn't lie under a tree fascinated by the patterns the sun made on the leaves gently dancing in the soft breeze.

I figured out, though, that grown ups could lie beside an 8-year-old daughter or a 4-year-old grandson and do those things and call it "education." But sometimes, there isn't a kid available and I stumble across something captivating.

At 48, it's time to face it.... I never lost the wonder. This cicada had just emerged from its skin and was drying its new wings before it flew away. I sat down and watched (and took pictures)... without a child anywhere around.

I loved it.