Day 320

Confession: In my teens, my farm side of the family found a fawn half dead on the side of the road. Maggots filled one of his eye sockets.

The baby was given medical care and the name Buckwheat. He recovered quickly— living with the lambs, racing and jumping through the fields like he was no different. We’d bottle feed him and pick rosehips, but he’d still revert to “drinking” from the mama sheep and guardian dogs (he got nothing).

I thought maybe his own mama would come looking for him but I guess she—if alive—knew what we didn’t want to: Buckwheat wasn’t going to make it.

Witnessing a trusting soul like his, that held the big wide world in one innocent eye, has been impossible to forget.  Many like Buckwheat go without being found. Suffering does not pick and choose.

Sound of the day: Takénobu – Throwback https://youtu.be/bbvOBS9tvfI?si=fV5jwdbFLv4Xco5T (this song captures his spirit)