Growing up I was always scared. Didn’t really know why. I just was. Maybe it was the white kid-black neighborhood story. Maybe it was the traumatic stories my family had shared with me growing up. Or maybe I was just a wimp.
In a large tree on the property I grew up in, my father built a three-story tree house. Not sure whether the house helped cultivate my imagination or whether my imagination simply used it as fuel. Either way, the tree house made it easy for me to stay tucked away in our property and rarely venture out into the neighborhood. Basically, at a young age I feared traveling.
Considering the amount of countries I’ve traveled to by my current age I find that beginning strangely…
Now that I have returned to my old neighborhood to live and am free from the fear of traveling I have found countless wonders and beauty painted across historic East Oak Lane. From charming houses to striking back streets, there is no end to the extraordinary.
Won’t you join me?