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Spring Break Journal: Kevin T. Wittenberg

By Kevin T. Wittenberg
More valuable than the breathtaking vistas and the time spent with friends around the campfire was the rekindling of childhood spirit, of instinct, of passion. Clambering around nature’s jungle gym evoked a sensation I hadn’t felt since childhood. It came from some part of me wholly disconnected from the intellectual rigor of college; it was something visceral, something I’ve only felt when risking my life. It was a fearlessness that throughout my childhood was curbed by my parents’ fears; now it was tinged with unadulterated freedom. There was nothing but handhold after handhold. Foothold after foothold. The abyss. The sky.
More valuable than the breathtaking vistas and the time spent with friends around the campfire was the rekindling of childhood spirit, of instinct, of passion. Clambering around nature’s jungle gym evoked a sensation I hadn’t felt since childhood. It came from some part of me wholly disconnected from the intellectual rigor of college; it was something visceral, something I’ve only felt when risking my life. It was a fearlessness that throughout my childhood was curbed by my parents’ fears; now it was tinged with unadulterated freedom. There was nothing but handhold after handhold. Foothold after foothold. The abyss. The sky.

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