There’s a quiet comfort in finding an old friend just when you’re about to leave — even if he’s made of bronze. I carved him from Black Walnut in my 20s — and frankly, he carved a part of me.
Now, decades later, he waits, steady and silent — a patient companion at the threshold of so many journeys. I leave, I return — and still, he waits, steady as the mountains that first shaped us both.