What if a giant funnelweb spider crawled out of that hole over your head and bit you on the neck? What if the only antidote for venom was locked up in a vault on the top of a mountain? What if you lived through the bite, but could only move your eyelids and blink out an alphabet? It doesn’t really matter how far you go; the point is that it’s a world of possibility. Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I’ve decided, is only a slow sewing shut.
“You did really great up there”, I tell her, because I don’t know how to say what I really want to: that the people you love can surprise you every day. That maybe who we are isn’t so much about what we do, but rather what we’re capable of when we least expect it.
Kangaroo, they’re pretty interesting, you know. I mean, not only are they found on Australia alone, like some kind of mutant evolutionary strain- they have the eyes of deer and the useless paws of a T-Rex. But the most fascinating thing about them is the pouch, of course. This baby, when it gets born, is like the size of a germ and manages to crawl under the flap and tuck itself inside, all while its clueless mother is bouncing around the Outback. And the pouch isn’t like they make it out on Saturday morning cartoons- it’s pink and wrinkled like inside your lip, and full of important motherish plumbing. I’ll bet you didn’t know kangaroos don’t just carry one joey at a time. Every now and then there will be a miniature sibling, tiny and jellied and stuck in the bottom while her older sister scrapes around with enormous feet and makes herself comfortable.