from here to...

She stared as she walked slowly forward. Grasping her sippy cup with one hand and scratching her head with her right, she looked distracted. I turned to see what had grabbed her attention above us. The action of her right hand served as a metaphor for her serious contemplation. She was, it seemed to me, trying to figure out what was making all that beauty. As the tree waved its limbs and leaves in the wind, the sun barely poked its rays through, shining, shimmering and shouting out suggestions of eternity.