I am sure everyone thinks my sweet Gramma Janice bit me with the ‘travel bug’ traveling in Europe. Not to rain on everyone’s parade, but I was born into it. European travels only sealed the deal. Traveling has always played an important role in my life.
When I started school, my travels were daily outings. Aunt Shelley drove me to school, just so she would get to see me everyday. Gramma and Grampa took care of me after school. Aunt Darla’s house happened on the nights when mother had class. This was merely when I was in Kindergarten. My daycare schedule was more complicated than most college students’ class schedules.
As I got older, the system morphed to fit the extra-curricular activities of growing up. Tuesday nights at Aunt Shelley’s, Sundays at the Pope’s, Monday and Wednesday at Gramma and Grampa’s, and Aunt Denise and Darla would be there for the ‘anything’ occasion. At the time, I may not have carried the typical suitcase. But, I loved to travel with my ‘suitcase’ coming in the form of a school backpack, lunch box, soccer bag, or dance bag. It didn’t matter, because it made life a journey.
Visiting family for weekend trips was a common theme through out the year. Trips to Redondo, Fresno, Atascadero, San Francisco, Glendale, Phoenix, Hermosa, Cayucos, Long Beach, San Luis Obispo, and Valencia happened as often as we could. It was life out of a suitcase, and I loved it.
The first time I could remember getting on a plane, we were heading to Kansas. At the time I couldn’t think of anything more noteworthy than Kansas. My vast knowledge of Kansas stretched to farms and tornados, neither of which I was particularly fond of. I found it truly extraordinary, merely due to the idea of traveling. Knowing we were traveling was good enough for me.
Some live, experience, and are fulfilled by what’s in their backyards. I find there is something about cramming as many possessions into a bag as possible, and then complaining you brought too many that makes my heart skip a beat.