Wonder. Stupendous and sublime wonder. I feel like it only ever comes on a whim. Not like it used to when I was just a baby Hanna in the time before I can remember Hanna; grabbing at things with pudgy unknowing arms and looking out the car window "what's that? What's that? but what's that?" Of course I didn't know trapped as I was inside that infernal red womb for so long and then in that prisonesque crib. But now here I am out here in this great big world filled with mysterious delight and learning. "It's an airplane Hanna. It's a dog Hanna. It's a dripping ice cream cone Hanna." Oooo. Ahhh. Wowww.

But for some reason the adults all sound bored. They already know these things. It's been so long very long since they themselves annoyingly asked the adults in their life the very same questions on repeat. And we all get older and we all become accustomed to the planes and their flying, dogs and their barking, and ice cream and it's melting and eventually there's hardly anything at all that can make us stop and consider and fill us to some sort of brink with awe and appreciation and wonder.

I want to, I really want to be amazed by the mundane. I want to ooh and ahh at the every everydays and not listen to my brain that says "boring, obvious, common." But how? What's so wonderful about these shoes I lace everyday and that tree with the branch that looks like a witch's crooked nose?

Not much. So I wait for those brief scintillating moments when the sublime peaks through the canopy of trees and shines spectacularly on one sparkle of the universe, making it seem bright and magical and unlike anything I've ever seen before enough to make me stop and think and question and awe.

I think I'll become an inventor. Because then I'll have to look at everything as a whole before I can fit it into its role as a part. Then every small ingredient will deserve my full and undivided attention. And maybe that's why we've lost the sense of wonder, because we look at items as items or objects as objects, people as people and ideas as ideas, but not how they fit into things around them like perfectly formed jigsaw pieces. Or, as often is the case, not so perfectly formed jigsaw pieces.

Maybe then I'll be an amateur dissector and pick apart the pieces of the world into even smaller pieces. From elephants to mice to cars and people and their handbags.

Whatever it is I'll be I hope it involves the little things turning into big things and then back again.