My daughter likes to ask me where she was when I reference various events before she was born. I tell her part of her was an egg in my body. I contemplate where we are before we are born, along with her. The presence of the past and the future within our bodies. And where do we go after we die? The next question. I have been thinking about the transformation of decomposed material that resurrects into life. The simple miracle of compost and soil. Spring.