It’s Good To See

Hello, hello, hello? Can anybody hear me still? There is a frog the size of a cow over there, and I may be the only one who can see it! There is a field of dandelions the size of trees, blades of grass over my head. Stones the size of boulders, sand the size of stones. There is a colossal worm wriggling out of dirt, but I can’t hear the earth moving around it. A used-up soda can lies on its side the size of a two-story house. An army of ants measuring up to my waist march in and out like an invasion of starving people—first served when first to arrive until all the food is gone. Each one has been in this predicament before, the last in line. Maybe they don’t communicate so well, but I, for one, can hear them. I am ten times the size of an ant but a hundred times smaller than a frog. I can’t even fathom how large a cow may be if I were to see one up close, yet so far away. I’m certainly not built to hear them. That would be too much. I started out ten thousand times bigger than where I can see from now, and I hear ninety-nine percent less. I have conditioned myself to see everything larger than it is in real life and to hear only those things smaller than myself. I am working towards the zen of a gnat.