My sister and I were very adventurous. We'd play in the park

There are certain words that do not merely recall memory, but awaken something ancient in the human spirit — the yearning for simplicity, freedom, and the wild imagination of youth. When Asher Keddie said, “My sister and I were very adventurous. We’d play in the park across the road in our imaginary tree house for hours on end and come home on our bikes when it was dark,” she was not simply reminiscing; she was summoning the essence of childhood — that sacred realm where the world is still vast, unbroken, and full of wonder. Beneath her gentle recollection lies a truth the modern world too easily forgets: that imagination is not an escape from life, but its purest beginning.

In these words, Keddie paints a portrait of a time when joy needed no permission, when adventure was found not in screens or schedules, but in the shared magic of play. The imaginary tree house was not made of wood or nails, but of dreams — a temple of make-believe where the mind could soar beyond walls and limits. Such play, though small in the eyes of the grown, is the foundation of courage and creativity. For it is in those hours of unstructured wonder that the soul learns freedom, and the heart learns to trust its own invention.

The ancients, too, revered the untamed spirit of childhood. They told of Hermes, the divine trickster who, even as a child, stole Apollo’s cattle and invented the lyre from a tortoise shell — an act both mischievous and miraculous. Like Asher and her sister on their bikes, Hermes embodied the adventurous curiosity that drives creation itself. From such playful beginnings, wisdom and artistry are born. The ancients understood that imagination is the mother of invention, and play, the cradle of purpose.

Keddie’s quote also carries the fragrance of innocence and belonging — of bonds formed not by duty, but by shared discovery. In the company of her sister, she found both companionship and courage. Together they faced the fading light, riding home when the stars began to bloom. This image — two children racing against twilight — speaks of the timeless dance between adventure and safety, exploration and return. Every journey, no matter how small, is a rehearsal for life’s greater voyages. Every dusk that calls a child home teaches the heart that freedom and love can coexist.

In this recollection lies also a quiet critique of the modern age, where adventure has grown rare, and imagination too often lies dormant beneath the weight of convenience. The child who once climbed trees now scrolls through endless screens. Yet the world still whispers to us, as it whispered to Asher — in the rustle of leaves, in the golden fall of light across a park, in the call of the unknown road. To remember such moments is to remember our truest selves — unafraid, curious, alive.

Let us look to history for a reflection of this truth. Helen Keller, though blind and deaf, lived with a spirit of endless adventure. Guided by her teacher Anne Sullivan, she turned a world of silence into a world of imagination. To her, the act of touching water became revelation; the feel of sunlight, an open book. Like Keddie’s imaginary tree house, Keller’s inner world was boundless — proof that the greatest adventures are not those measured in distance, but in depth of wonder.

And so, the lesson is this: nurture your inner child, and never cease to imagine. The grown may forget, but the soul remembers what it felt like to build castles out of air and kingdoms from laughter. In every person, there remains a hidden park, a forgotten tree house, waiting to be revisited. Go there — not only to recall the past, but to renew your faith in life’s simple joys. Let curiosity lead you again, even if only for an hour.

For as Asher Keddie reminds us, it is not the grand adventures that shape us most, but the small ones — the ones that live in memory like a quiet sunset. So build your tree house again, even if it now exists only in your heart. Ride your bike into the dusk of your days with wonder still alive in your gaze. For those who keep the spirit of childhood adventure alive will never truly grow old, but will continue, forever, to meet the world as it was first meant to be met — with courage, joy, and imagination unbound.