As I smell road tar on the street, I remember Penny and I stepping on the asphalt blacktop tar on a hot summer day making footprints. It is Penny speaking to me through the asphalt.
As I hear my bedroom blinds blowing gently with the wind, I think of Granny’s house in South San Francisco. It is Granny speaking to me through the wind.
As I wake up before the sun, I think of bicycle trips to places far far away because we had to leave very very early. It is Adventure that speaks to me then.