I went wandering with my younger brother and memories flooded in. The experience led to reflection on the happiness, fearlessness and curiosity of childhood.
When we were kids, I volunteered him to go on adventures with me to make discoveries in our backyard. My family rented a home on what felt like an enormous piece of land on Browns Mill Road In Atlanta. The yard gifted us bounties of pecans from trees along with figs. Among the trees was where I honed my skills as a mud pie extraordinaire *chef’s kiss*. Or chased fireflies on summer evenings.
We got maximum use out of the wooden swing our father built for us when we weren’t mounting his two-door Plymouth hatchback and using the windshield like a playground slide—I never claimed we were well-behaved kids.
I learned to ride a bike in our backyard, raced on bikes with my sister and definitely crashed my bike a couple of times too. If we ever got bored with exploring our own yard, we would visit our neighbor and her golden retriever. She would inevitably offer us graham crackers and Diet Coke while telling us stories. Not long after, our mom would ring her phone wondering where her adventurers had roamed.