the grunt


I was born in a place humans call central Africa, in a dense rain forest so beautiful, no crayons could ever do it justice.


Gorillas don’t name their newborns right away, the way humans do. We get to know our babies first. We wait to see hints of what might yet be.


When they saw how much she loved to chase me around the forest, my parents decided on my twin sister’s name: Tag.


Oh, how I loved to play tag with my sister! She was nimble, but when I got too close, she would leap onto my unsuspecting father. Then I would join her and we would bounce on that tolerant belly until he gave us the Grunt, the rooting-pig sound that meant Enough!


That game never got old.


Although my father might have disagreed.

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