by Rachel Floyd, November 28, 2019
When you’re two, Prairie grasses can tickle your cheeks and your baby doll has to be held very tightly as you push your way through them. When you’re two, a 65 degree day in November might call for first taking off your coat, then your shirt and sitting down to eat oranges in the dirt topless. When you’re two, you don’t much care about the difference between Solidago and Symphyotrichum, but you might like pulling seed heads off of them both and stuffing them into your big brown paper bag along with your plastic farm animals, and your stuffed owl, and your snacks. Being two means that every moment is monumental and full of hunger, and joy, and frustration. Because when you are two, every moment is all there is.