I can’t quite remember my life from when I was living under a rock. Was it damp? Was it dry?Was it a large space, or confined? Did I live alone or did I have a different family there?

I’ve wondered those things often through the years. It might help if I knew the location of that rock. My childhood was spent looking for my previous home. There wasn’t a rock unturned for at least a mile radius from our place.

Mission Valley

If I’m of another race or species, my kind must be relatively strong. I would turn over rocks that doubled or tripled my weight. I never did find any evidence that the local rocks hid my previous home though.

Coyote Den

I found many other denizens of the subterraanean realm in my journeys, but none of them extended a welcoming or communicated with me.

Jumping Spider
Blue Racer

Why did they have to be so vague? There are days that the frustration of it all makes me wish my parents had never told me that they found me under a rock!

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