Travel is the through line of my life.

My step-mother used to say, ” You just say “Do you want to g…’ and Carrie is in the car.” You didn’t even need to finish the word go.  I always want to go.  I have traveled as a child, as a tween, as a teen, as a dependent adult, as an independent adult; with my parents, with my brother, with my children, with my grandparents, with cousins, with my husband, with friends, with relations and alone.  I have walked, ridden, driven, flown, cruised, trained (the OED says that is acceptable), and whatever word you would use for taking a hover craft.  On the riding front, I have primarily ridden in a car/truck/matatu but have been known to ride on a wagon, ass, mule, horse, or camel.

I like to go.  Across town trips are nice, but ones that take me somewhere else are even better.  The picture above is from Ellis Island.  My great grandmother entered the U.S. there.  She was on the go.  Hearing the stories of how people processed through that center and filtering that through the family stories of that indomitable lady, I could see her there.  I imagine she told people what they were doing wrong and sat on a bench reading one of her beloved books.  As a young woman, girl really, she left her home in Switzerland and headed to America.  What was she hoping to find?  I don’t know.  But her sense of exploration definitely passed on to her descendants.

Marie Boyd’s children scattered to the for corners of the United States and raised their children in California, Florida, Maryland, Louisiana, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Washington, and places in between.  The next generation went further afield, traveling and living in Asia, Africa, back to Europe, and who knows where else.  I am not sure if this is part of my family culture of if I am just trying to connect with the past, but in any case, going to this national park showed me a connection to the past I had not thought about before.

Find a place that ties your imagination to the larger world and history and soak it in to you very essence.