World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments

by Aimee Nezhukumatathil

How I wish I could fold inward and shut down and shake off predators with one touch.

As Emily Dickinson once wrote, hope is the thing with feathers.

Suppose that boom shaking in our body can be a physical reminder that we are all connected—that if the cassowary population decreases, so does the proliferation of fruit trees, and with that, hundreds of animals and insects then become endangered.

Maybe that is the loneliest kind of memory: to be forever altered by an invisible kiss, a reminder of something long gone and crumbled, like that mountain in Lake Superior. Perhaps, in the distant future, a sound that resembles my voice will still haunt my great-great-great-great-great-grandchild—a sound she can’t quite place, can’t quite name.