In a chapter of A Million Miles in A Thousand Years, Donald Miller’s book about living and writing better stories, the narrator converses with a character who “didn’t think we should be afraid to embrace whimsy. I asked him what he meant by whimsy, and he struggled to define it. He said it’s that nagging idea that life could be magical; it could be special if we were only willing to take a few risks.”
When I was an undergraduate student at Harvard University, whimsy evaded me. So did bushy tails: I graduated without having taken a single photograph of the squirrels in Harvard Yard. I have now returned. And I brought my whimsy with me.