Travel beginnings

My lifetime is filled with memories, both good and bad, but the highlights of those memories are often the different trips. With my brother and parents as a child, and as I grew older with friends supervised by adults, and eventually trips on my own. Some were vacations, some to visit family, some to see exciting new places, some familiar and comfortable routine. There was always something in common with those trips, those memories; that was a sense of doing or seeing something different from the day-to-day living of school, work, and home.

Growing up, my family wasn't the happiest, my parents didn't like their jobs and were often tired from the day-to-day routine. Something about those trips, however, there was some enjoyment for everyone. Even when there was practically no money to spend there was a certain magic about going on these journeys. 

My earliest memory of travel barely registers as a memory, more a whisper of ghosts from the past. Vague memory of seeing grandma in the motel room. Seeing Mickey Mouse at Disneyland and being terrified of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Sometimes I wonder if those memories are really mine or just the repetition of old stories with the family that have become so familiar that they seem to be memories. Nevertheless, whether fabricated memories from repeated stories or real experiences locked away somewhere under a veil of distance those memories are still mine. Still cherished, and still effect how I view vacations today.