When I was 2-3 years old, my dad was stationed in Kansas as a tank driver. We lived in a second story apartment across the street from a school. One of my first memories was yelling out of my second story window to the kids at the playground asking them if they wanted to come play with me.
Now I’m nearing 40, and I still feel like the kids at the playground can’t hear me no matter how hard I yell.









