Laura Robinson

A big yard with lots of grass to frolic in and large magnolia trees to hide in — every small child's dream. For me, that was my reality.

I was six years old, often sported cotton-blonde pigtails, and had no concept of shoes. As my hair began to darken and the notches on my bedroom door frame heightened, this time in my life appropriately became known as my "barefoot days."

These days consisted of following my older sister around wherever she went and partaking in whatever mischief our minds happened to conjure up that particular morning. We had more yard than what we knew what to do with back then, constantly discovering new territory to explore and conquer. From inching our way across the backyard swing set in a heated game of "lava" to racing down the driveway on our skateboards (which conveniently doubled as tabletops as soon as lunch time rolled around), we were never victims of boredom.

As I grow older and the days I get to spend with my sister are slimming, I reminisce on these moments with an effervescent grin, knowing that somewhere between the dirty feet and grass-stained hands, my sister and I became best friends.