xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' World Toddler: A Passport Before Three

xx

xx

Saturday, January 30, 2016

A Passport Before Three

My Dad on a roadtrip

I had a passport before I turned three, and at least ten stamps before graduating from high school. In the midst of starting their own businesses, working off their student loans (albeit, cute compared to today's average loans), and providing for our family, my parents always found the time and money to travel.  In the truly lean years, this translated into weekend roadtrips up the coast of Maine with the occassional spare tire and frequent seedy hotel. As my parents' businesses thrived, my father became a Points-Connosuir straight out of Up in the Air, and my mom developed an intricate knowledge of the airline "bump" system, our family started traveling further and more exotically. 

While my childhood was always filled with friends, family, and love, my warmest, most vibrant memories almost all occurred after buckling my seatbelt and stowing my tray-table: Floating down a lazy river at a Tuscon resort; winning BINGO 4 times in a row at a Bermuda community center; nursing my dad through an epic bout of food poisioning in Tel Aviv.

My sister and me partying with Poppy
Before every trip, I remember my mom half-jokingly musing about why she was investing so much money into experiences that my sister and I would barely remember by the time we turned 18.  To my mom, I can now say that her investment has paid off.  Although I do not remember my favorite painting at the Louvre or why Hemingway retired to Key West, I will always remember exploring Anne Frank's house, just a little younger than the diarist herself, when I, alone amongst our guided tour, had a wide-open window into the feelings of a young girl.  And, even should I one day have amnesia, my bones would remember helping my dad push my beloved grandpa, Poppy, up the hills of Jersualem in a wheelchair, and holding on extra tight on the way down those hills. "Don't let go!" he'd shout from front.  Well, of course, we never did let go.  And, with incredible experiences to help me remember, I never will.


No comments:

Post a Comment