I continue to see the path, with the eyes of my seven-year-old self, despite revisiting it many decades later. Tidy without much adornment from overhanging foliage, the path traversed the length of our yard, from the forbidding metal gate to the garage, it was my fiefdom when I was still an only child.
I wandered along it, suffused with fear and exhilaration as I touched the leaves of a Venus Flytrap bordering the path, seeing the fronds avidly closing over my small hand.
Several years later, with my younger sister by my side, I shared the spoils of my fiefdom with her, watching her marvel as I deftly enjoined the carnivorous plant to reveal itself to her.
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