The next morning, the porch looked the same as it always had—quiet, sunlit, and still. But for me, it would never be just a porch again. It had become a stage for one of those rare, fleeting moments that etch themselves into memory.
I don’t know where the little fawn wandered off to, or if it ever thought about us again. But I do know that for a brief time, the boundaries between our world and the wild dissolved, and all that existed was kindness, trust, and the joy of simply being together.
Life doesn’t send us doorbells for every beautiful thing we’re meant to notice. Sometimes, we have to open the door—literally and figuratively—to let those moments in. And when we do, they have a way of staying with us, long after the deer has trotted away and the apples are gone.
Because the magic isn’t in the event—it’s in the way it changes you.
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