Travel Genetics

There are some things that go with growing up. Bills, responsibilities, hangovers, and coming to an uneasy middle ground about your parents, somewhere between the childhood mentality that Mom and Dad know everything about everything, and the adolescent assumption that they’re just as batty as they seem to think you are. Many of the realizations that come to this point are fairly common. You realize that your parents aren’t actually superheroes when you start asking them questions they don’t know the answers to, you know, the hard questions. But some of these realizations are a little more specific.

It’s recently occurred to me that it’s maybe a little odd that my sister and I bonded over the realization that Dad doesn’t actually know everything there is to know about every international airport and a significant chunk of the domestic airports of the world. Even so, through years of experience, we still err on the side of not arguing with Dad on travel questions.

My sister Erin and her bright pink backpack are on their way to an adventure of their own, in Ghana. Apparently the travel bug is hereditary. I may have a couple of years and a couple of flights on her, but this time it’s her doing the cool, interesting, brave thing. And I couldn’t be more proud.

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