They say we’re attracted to things that we love. The things that our soul light up for. I’ve always been attracted to the sun. Sitting on the front steps of my home during the summer, staring at the pavement and watching the heat rise from the surface. To think that the same ground that withstands the pelting rains, pounds of snow,  being covered by the leaves that fall in October, and the pine needles that are blown and battered across is capable of collecting and giving warmth. That it can withstand the dancing of friends, the wheels and ripping of rubber tires, scraping of plastic toy houses and water balloon attacks in the July. It can withstand the t-ball stand that my father used to set up in may, and the chalk drawings of April. I’ve always been attracted to the sun and to the pavement. I think my soul is one that yearns to be felt, to be interacted with. To be a bystander of conversation, a passer byer of a young child discovering their passion for t ball. A spectator of the first snowfall, or the last leaf to fall from the tree. My soul craves moments, big or small. Rich or dull, it aches for other souls.