A Natural Step In the Right Direction

         I find it particularly difficult to pinpoint when and where I grew up. I was born in Providence, Rhode Island, then moved to Hockessin, Delaware. Portage, Indiana. South Bend, Indiana. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. All more or less the same place, the same suburban house, but different backyards.

The South Bend Backyard was a flat, grass patch, with a couple trees. It held my first memory of my dog, Gromit, playing with my sister and I. Gromit was the same age as me my entire childhood, and often shared the backyard with us. He was my first connection to the natural world, as my family and I took him to play in the creek, while me and my dad searched for crawfish. 

The Pittsburgh Backyard was my escape from the world: a fenced-in oasis with a five foot tall hill, two flat areas, and some flower beds scattered throughout. My sister and I would “camp” on the hill and watch the stars. We played “don’t touch the ground” with stumps and trees, creating our own sanctuary in the outdoors. It became another world, where I could be anything, and have the freedom to do anything. 

We had a Koi Pond in that backyard. The sound of the fountain filtering water was almost enough to block out my parents yelling at each other from the kitchen. I became pretty good at ignoring the yelling; it was the best way to stay happy. My parents divorced that year, and we moved out of the house. My mom moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, and my dad moved to Valparaiso, Indiana, four and half hours away. 

I don’t remember what the inside of the Pittsburgh House looked like–only the feelings that permeated the space. 

         I was never great at making friends and only had three back in Pittsburgh: my neighbor and the son and daughter of one of my mom’s friends. When I moved to Cincinnati in 2nd grade, I found myself drawn to nature as I had before. Across from my apartment building, there was a small forest that I would often visit. This forest soon became my safe space, my escape from worry, stress, and loneliness. The outdoors seemed to find me everywhere. Being outside was the one constant in my life. My parents were divorced and every summer I moved back to my dad’s house, four and a half hours away. The distance made any friendship hard to maintain. 

         Throughout the process of growing up I developed an undeniable connection with nature. The various patches of greenery throughout the midwest became my sanctuary. It was very difficult for me to put roots down with people or places due to my constant transience. Instead, I put roots into the natural world, and it became my sanctuary, much like it still is today. 

As I continue to grow up, I realize that there is so much value in choosing and having a community. I am always trying to find places where I belong, rooting with the people around me and the spaces I visit. These communities have become essential to my support network today, but I have never lost my connection to nature. I do not regret my earlier years, but I am much happier now that I have been able to connect to a community, in addition to the natural world. 

Much like my affinity to nature, I’m hoping that the WanderRoots map will help others plant roots in their communities. I implore everyone to explore this map, their community, talk to people on the street, talk to their neighbor(s), go to a block party, join clubs, and take up space for themselves. This map is not the perfect representation of safety and where you can find it, but it is a great first step in the right direction. 

#rootingforyou