For most, a life passion became rooted in childhood interests—writers who became infatuated with storytelling after piecing together their first written sentence; artists who doodled in their margins from a young age and showed no signs of slowing down; astronomers, losing themselves in the stars the moment they first realize just how small they are in a wide, unknown universe.

But Wyatt Parker Kennedy showed no proclivities for writing or art or the universe—no signs for anything, really, that would motivate her to become something extraordinary. She dabbled in journaling, in doodling, in watching the clouds pass by on lazy afternoons. She made friends in her neighborhoods and schools, captained imaginary pirate ships, built several faulty treehouses without her father’s help and broke her wrist trying to prove there was nothing wrong with her constructions. And while there was no single, solitary, overwhelming passion burning inside her, Wyatt made the most of her fleeting interests and hobbies, and she eventually developed a taste for the spontaneity of things.

The oldest of three girls—one born long after Wyatt's childhood officially ended—the girl had no shortage of imagination to keep her younger sister and herself occupied. When WP and Elliot curled up in one or the other’s bed at night, they spoke in hushed tones of what adventures they’d embark on the next morning. Who would they be fighting next? What would they be fighting for? And they giggled and giggled until either their mother or father lovingly told them to keep quiet, and then they’d return to whispering about the next Big Adventure until they were both sound asleep.

And this was how WP grew up. Loved. Cuddled. Supported by her parents and her baby sister to just go out and do. Ray and Marilyn Kennedy attributed their oldest’s impulsiveness to her age, but when Wyatt got older and showed no signs of settling, they realized theirs was a wandering child and there wasn’t much to do about it. And so, Wyatt continued growing up loved, cuddled, supported, and she grew up better for it.

By the time she was late into her teens, it became apparent that Wyatt wasn’t cut out to endure any education beyond high school. Her mind was always going, interests always shifting, and she knew that trying to squeeze one major into four years would result in disaster. With so many little hobbies and no singular goal in life, college wasn’t part of Wyatt's plan. And she knew it. Her parents knew it, and they didn’t push for her to at least try a semester or two, just to see how university fit. They understood that she needed to keep going out and doing, just as she’d always done, and they grew less and less uneasy with her decision the closer it got to Wyatt's high school graduation.

It came and went, and Wyatt—newly 18 and a big sister again to baby August—decided that she would do as so many before her had done: she’d move from her small village of Sleepy Hollow into the big city and try to make something of it. The fall after her graduation, Wyatt moved out of her childhood home and into a small, dirty apartment in Brooklyn. She took on odd jobs to pay the rent and stayed out late making new friends at bars, clubs, parks, bookstores and coffee shops—anywhere there could be a potential new friend, she was there. And oddly enough, it was also how she landed a part-time job as a barista at The Wild Detectives, a small coffee shop and bookstore in Williamsburg. Wyatt eventually quit most of her other small jobs (except for dog walking because why not?) and became a full-time employee at The WD.

It’s been seven years since Wyatt moved into the city. She now manages the small coffee shop she grew to call her second home and recently moved from Williamsburg to Dumbo for a change of scenery and the chance to live with a roommate. Wyatt's also saving again for the next Big Adventure and enjoying life as much as she can—even if she does sound like a living cliche.