Sketches

The relentlessly sweet scent of wanderlust caught hold of me young.

My first international trip was taken at three months old when my parents decided to explore Costa Rica with my older brother and I.  As one may imagine, I do not remember much from that trip.  But I do hear stories about it from time to time.  One such story involves me sleeping in the sand when a rogue wave flowed all the way up the beach into the trees.  My dad was keeping a close eye on me and snatched me up even as the wave swept all of our beach belongings away.

Our next international trip took us to Europe when I was five.  My parents had given Caleb and I a choice.  Either stay at Grandma’s house for three weeks while they discovered new countries or go with them and never, not once complain “I’m tired”, “my feet hurt”, or even worse “I’m bored”.  Caleb and I chose Europe.  Even though my bad memory has fogged over most of this trip I remember a few things.  I remember warm cafes with hot chocolate thick like pudding.  I remember buying a tiny doll with a painted porcelain face and a baby blue gown.  And I remember my magenta hat and gloves with the embroidered flowers that I wore continuously because of the cold.  Europe is pretty small through the eyes of a child.  It’s funny how so many things seem to get smaller as I get older.  But the world just seems to get bigger and bigger.