I have allergies. Occasionally really bad allergies. Sometimes, it helps me out: I can’t eat peas, which are garbage anyway! Sometimes, it doesn’t help me out: I haven’t had real peanut butter since I was a kid. Either way, they’re a bit of an inconvenience. And they’re part of the reason why I don’t spend too much time outside.
The other reason is that sometimes outside is garbage too. But I digress.
When I was little, growing up in North Carolina, there were trees everywhere. Right off my backyard, there was a miniature forest, closed in by other backyards in my neighborhoods. My elementary and middle schools were surrounded by los arboles grandes, and recess often involved running around in there.
But early into my childhood, I was tested for allergies and “trees” were a culprit. Because I was seven, they never actually told me WHAT trees I was allergic to; they just said to stay away from them. Even still. That’s not what stopped me from loving the outdoors.
Moving to Texas is what killed it.
