Last week my seven-year-old grandson excitedly told me about the moth he rescued from a puddle in their garage. “It was stuck in the water, so I picked him up and brought him out to the sun to let him dry out,” he said.

Within seconds, the moth took flight and landed on his arm. “He just sat there looking at me,” he said with youthful joy. Eventually, the moth, sensing the seven-year-old’s gentle soul, moved to the tip of his nose and stayed there until my grandson swooshed him on his way. “I guess he really liked me,” he said with his eyebrows arched.

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