Editor’s Note: Sadie Fitzpatrick uses this space to explore the character and quirks that make Ocala uniquely wonderful and occasionally irksome. Last night, my toddler insisted on being rocked to sleep. As she settled against my chest, I swayed back and forth, humming a wordless melody. Her hair was damp from the bath, and she still smelled slightly of sunscreen from our day at the pool. In the stillness of the room, I relished the weight of her tiny body on mine. As I marveled at this beautiful human being, I was reminded that there is a more urgent, pressing...