The first though that comes to my mind when I think about my hometown neighborhood is that I had no neighbors at all. In fact, within a five mile radius, the only neighbors I had growing up were two deer I named Susan and Louis. I woke up every morning and looked out my dew stained window to see Susan and Louis grazing in the field behind my house.
When I was 7 years old my parents built a home in Lake City, FL. Although this was where I had been my whole life, moving into this house was a new beginning for me. New trails to explore and bigger trees to climb. We were fortunate enough to have 11 acres. To me, this might have well been a whole continent. I spent countless hours outside exploring, building forts and sitting beside a small pond with my toes in the water. I didn't need toys or even other children to keep me entertained. The simplicity of nature was enough for me.
I remember getting into trouble because I had grass stains on my pants or ripped another hole in my shirt from "playing too hard" my Mom always said. Play too hard? I don't think that's possible. My backyard was a wooded haven to me. The air was always so crisp and clean. In Lake City there aren't many big buildings and there is a lot of roaming land left. Just the smell alone could bring me back home.
I remember when Dad would make it home early enough to help Mom with dinner; he always grilled. I always knew when dinner was ready on these nights. While keeping busy down by the pond I could smell the caramalized meat when it was done cooking. Afternoons were special times as a child for me. No matter what happens to my house someday, I will always have memories or playing in the trails and climbing the trees. My exploration is not over.
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