The "Curiositers"
There was never a day I did not ask my mother a question. Ranging anywhere from why the grass sparkled with dew after a shower the night before, to what the fellow pacing the sidewalk with a phone to his ear was thinking, to why God took Grandpa to heaven last month, I had an overwhelming desire to understand why the world was unraveling around me in the exact mosaic that it was. Like a scrambled puzzle, I found answers to my questions here and there, but could never be satisfied with what was still missing from the entire picture. I reasoned with myself that there had to be more behind every “why” – more to question, more to understand, and more to explain. Quite frankly, saying I was born with innate curiosity that would come to define me as an individual would be an understatement, and saying that I am inspired daily as a result of such inquisitiveness would be nothing but the truth. Of course, I still find my mind wondering into space periodically throughout the day