This image is for you—the one who feels time moving faster than it should, who wants their home to hold something steady and true. A baby pronghorn breaks into a clumsy run, legs unsure, heart certain, racing straight toward its mother. You can almost hear the soft thud of hooves on dry Wyoming grass, smell the cool morning air mixed with sage, feel that quiet hush that only exists at first light. The sun was just rising, warm and gentle, wrapping them in gold like a blessing. It felt as if God was whispering, pay attention—this won’t last long.

What made this moment worth preserving is how quickly it was changing. Seconds before, the baby stood still, hidden and vulnerable. Seconds later, it was safe again, pressed close to its mother’s side. That in-between—where fear turns into trust—is where life really happens. As I watched through my lens, the scene slowed me down. My breathing softened. My worries went quiet. I realized how much we need reminders of care, connection, and belonging.