An antler my eight-year-old son found in the forest. To me, it felt like a quiet ritual. Each year, a male deer sheds its antlers, leaving behind memories of struggle and desire. My son lives with dyslexia. His sensitivity—perhaps inherited from me, not in form, but in feeling. When he touched this natural tool, once used simply to survive, it felt as if something sleeping inside him gently began to awaken. He will one day walk through another forest, the one we call society. This antler feels to me like a talisman, a gift from nature. Difference into strength. Uncertainty into courage. I believe he will carry his own antlers and live.