My roots were planted in a little green house.
Truthfully, I lived in an apartment for the first three years of my life, but those memories are hazy. Moving to a house with kids my age when the concepts of friendship and neighbors take on understanding was a significant moment in my life.
Rules of human interaction, learning the nuances of the surrounding landscape, and developing an idea of place and identity grow from those roots. Fortunately, my street was loaded with kids. Together, our interactions gave us a taste of community.
I learned how to be a host and how to be a guest. What it means to forgive and be forgiven. Imagination coursed through our play-in the hot long summer days and the chilly snow covered winter ones.
And in those moments, when we all need a bit of a break from stimuli, I found refuge in a closet. It almost became a time travel machine. Because, in my mind, I landed anywhere and any time period books could take me. My passion for learning soared.
And it all began in a little green house.
Where did your roots sprout?
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