But in those memories of being outside and watching the world go by while I stayed in the safety of my fenced yard, I was happy. Unaware of the world outside the safety net of green grass and my parents loving embrace.

Nostalgia is a fickle emotion.

I miss the times of innocence when I knew I had a home. I didn’t fear the government. I was not afraid of my own body and the men who might use it against me.

I was innocent and full of the type of ignorance that is only acceptable as a child. My family struggled. There was war in the world.

Being young and carefree. Looking at the clouds roll in while I sit in a swing on my play set.

Was it carefree at the time? Or am I forgetting the anxiety I held then, too?

I was an anxious child, that I remember. But I also remember the feeling of wind on my face, and dirt under my nails.