“As a child, my playground was the woods.
The end of our street opened into a vast wooded forest, defined by a thin dirt footpath that stretched into a world of exploration for us. Our friends and neighbors, our siblings and dogs, all found peace and adventure under the shade of sky-high oaks and cedars.
It was there that we breathed in our first taste of independence, running freely through the creeks and over wooden bridges. Banding together despite our varied ages, we carved our names into trees and spent afternoons searching for lost treasure. We learned about ourselves and saw each other in a new light, as if sunshine cast through an umbrella of leaves had the power to illuminate our truest selves…”
I’m so excited to be featured in the Washington Post today with this new post that is so dear to me. This is for all those who spent their childhoods running freely through the woods with us — and, more importantly, for all those who came after us, whose adventures are still out there waiting for them. It’s a call to not let ourselves become the first generation to deny our children the freedom to explore their world.
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