Every summer, my family goes on a trip for a week or two, depending on the destination. We go somewhere different every year. Camping, vacationing in Hawaii, Alaskan cruise, standing out like sore thumbs in New York because we were *those* tourists. You name it, we’ve probably done it. My dad has always said he would rather spend money on trips because belongings come and go, but memories last forever. Kinda lame but also a motto I’m extremely thankful for.
I was home for the summer from my freshman year at college. I had no idea where we were adventuring to this year, but I was excited. I was attending college two states over, and I hadn’t been home since spring break. Growing up, we had always done things as a family, and I missed that while I was at school.
I know I know, college is supposed to be a time for soul searching, becoming independent and finding out who you are and figuring out your shit, at least that’s what I was lead to believe. So as lame as it might sound being basically a sophomore in college and wanting to spend summer with my family, I was really looking forward to it. This trip was basically the highlight of my year throughout my childhood, and this year was no different.