I spent many childhood days running outdoors until I saw the sun fade into the horizon. It did not go completely dark at that point, I learned that there was still some light left in the day. And daylight meant one thing: I could play outside.
My parents and I had this agreement:
I was going to be around the neighborhood. They didn't always know exactly where --
I was either up the hill, in the building, down back, playing in the street, behind our house in the woods, in my fort, in Katie's driveway, the cul-da-sac, on my sidewalk, in the pine trees...
So long as it was light out, they knew where to find me: Outside.
So where are all the kids now? I look out my window and I don't see them.