The door opened. I was born. I can’t say I chose to come through that mortal portal,  yet I must say I have never resisted the path that lay before the door. At times, I faltered, But I always continued down the path. Moss hanging from trees, spiderwebs, muddy swamps, golden trails of green, green grass .. trees in Spring, soft fluffy snow in Winter.  Summer as I remember it. But mostly Spring and Fall  – being born and  then dying –  beautifully and consistently. …… I  kept following the path. I have no idea if it was by choice or predestination, genetics, bad luck, dumb luck. Chaos.