His Freedom is My Cage

Escape is hard and has a heavy price.

After school, my son comes barreling through the door with his best friend. They drop off their bags, open the fridge, and they’re gone again. Sometimes upstairs to the clubhouse under my son’s loft bed, or to the backyard where they’re digging holes. Often, they go to the friend’s house one street away. Or to ride their bikes, skateboards, or scooters. 

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