We walked without a plan through the rice fields in the heart of Bali, just my mom and me. The path was narrow and sometimes barely visible between the tall green plants, but that’s what made it special.
Around us, the terraces stretched calmly across the hills, fed by a traditional irrigation system that has been used here for centuries. Every now and then we heard a bird or the soft rustling of the rice in the wind—otherwise, it was quiet.
We didn’t really know where we were going, but it didn’t matter. For a moment, all we had to do was walk, together, in the middle of it all.
