Or, at least, wave patterns.  A jagged smile?  A slice of alien watermelon?  A seismic graph?  Or just one of the many traces left by any activity, anywhere?  Nothing goes unnoticed, even if it goes unremarked.

It all matters, or so we hope.

I miss my mother.  She would have celebrated her 91st birthday today.  Which of course makes one wonder secretly, or not so secretly, whether…well, you know.

Wave patterns.