When I was twelve I lived in a housing complex for military families. It was an ideal place to grow up. Even though we were in the city, the complex seemed a world apart. Very rarely did you here sirens or see cops driving by. There was plenty of playgrounds and even a recreation center for the kids. It was the kind of place where people felt safe letting their kids roam around unattended. My brother and I freely rode our scooters and bikes around without even a second thought about “predators”. The only time I ever felt unsafe was when I was walking around in the some of the canyon landscape, where I really shouldn’t have been. I’ll never forget the time my friend had to pluck cactus needles out of my knee because I had tripped and fell on a small cactus. Needless to say I never went back into the canyon again. When I think of home, I think of that quaint little suburb in the city. I felt safe there and I haven’t felt that safe since.
