As a child, I would wade into the small streams of my backyard in New Jersey. My mom would roll up my jeans to my knees, warn me about the potential for snakes in the water, but would still surprise me by splashing some cool water on my face. The trees would surround us, the branches and leaves providing shade to conceal us from the sun’s rays.

Flickers of light still peaked out, causing the water to glisten around us, and the warmth of the sun would gently sweep over our skin.

As I grew older, I started venturing out on my own. I allowed myself to curl up beneath pine trees with a book or notebook tucked under my arm. I would stare at the endless blue sky, watch as the hawks dove from the clouds, and suddenly soar gracefully.

It was to the point that I would venture out in my backyard — scale the rocks, hide from the caves that I was certain that the bears lived in. I would make it to the end of my yard and stare at the glowing city skyline in the fading light of day.

In those very moments of my childhood, I learned to cherish nature around me. I allowed myself to venture out into the wilderness and bask in the wind and in the blowing of leaves. I ignored the buzzing insects that swarmed by sweating skin.

I was one with nature until I moved away and lost my love for nature.

When I moved, I forgot about the joys of hiking and exploring. The woods no longer surrounded my home and I was faced with a single tree that I favored in an open yard — until a hurricane took that tree away from me, causing it to fall to the ground.

I’m sure my family might have used it once for firewood.

That was probably four or five years ago.

For six years, I’ve blocked out nature. I allowed myself to believe that hiking wasn’t important and was unnecessary. I saw pictures that people posted and was vaguely interested, but never actually wanted to explore the outdoors.

However, during my junior year at West Virginia University, I learned that I was wrong.

I didn’t originally want to go hiking. Eventually, I traveled to different state parks to see waterfalls and cliffs that allowed me to feel that I was standing on the edge of the world. I allowed myself to take a deep breath of air that wasn’t tainted by the fumes of pollution, to stand “almost” near the edge of the cliff, and to stare down at the thousands of feet below me. I was above trees. The birds were below and above me, and I was in between. Most of all, I was at peace.

My explorations continued after that. I hiked nearly to the top of Seneca Rocks, not quite reaching the mount, but still enjoyed the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I traveled to Swallow Falls in Maryland, where the water was clear, and tasted fresh and sweet. I could see the dirt and sand, and I wasn’t afraid to bask in the water up to my knees. I cupped the water in my hands and splashed it on my face.

I could run through the trails provided and laugh at how the wind whipped at my hair. I could go to other locations without hesitating. Enjoy the world around you, but also venture out. Answer the call of nature by enjoying the world around you.