Comic 44 is up, double-length as promised.

The most phenomenal thing happened to me this week. I went outside.
Understand, I am one of those people that lives almost exclusively indoors. I don't even like walking down the trail by the lake. But... for some reason I was compelled to do my homework on the back porch last Wednesday. I'd forgotten what it was like to sit in open air like that. I can't believe I had actually forgotten!
But while I sat there, I started remembering. My childhood, mostly.
When I was a little girl, I developed this kind of spontaneous, naturalistic spirituality. I crafted these little shrines of twigs and clay, and would put leaves and flowers on top of them. I would build small cities in the mud and imagine civilizations that worshiped a small tree growing nearby. I dreamed of constructing a clubhouse in the backyard so that I could always sleep outdoors.
But somewhere between middle school and college, I stopped walking outside. I lost hold of those fantasies. They were so important at one point in my life, I can't imagine how they slipped out of my head without notice. But they were gone for years, and I never missed them.
But oh! I was wide -eyed! To stand there in that place with the light and the grass and the cool autumn air, I could feel all that childhood affection for the green welling up in me again. Memories of the games my sister and I played. Bracelets I'd braid out of grass. Castles of dirt and chalk.
Above me, I saw a single leaf caught on a single spider web filament and suspended 30 feet in the air above me. It twisted and rotated but never fell to the earth. I stood motionless as it danced for me, breathless. How long have I glanced out my window, looked at the world, but didn't really see it?
Today I took my sister by the hand. "I have something to show you" I said. I took her outside and a few steps into the grass. And we just stood there for a while, looking at the place we used to play in. After the space of a few breaths, she turned to me, smiling. "Yeah" she said. She knew what I was trying to say.
In a way, that's even more special than rediscovery.
  ¶ 23:06