A View of the Skyline

I've made this statement before but it bears repeating. For the bulk of my childhood, I imagined myself traveling around the globe with my husband by my side and my son strapped to my back. I'd write freelance articles for travel magazines highlighting our journies. As a family, we would hike with Sherpas in the Himalayas and drink yak's milk with Mongolian nomads. It would be a life where my son would be exposed to the world. The globe would be his classroom; the cultures of the world his teachers.

Somewhere between dreaming and doing, part of that dream got lost. Instead of keeping a little apartment in some big city as a resting point, we live in a house set way back in the woods. It's not even visible on Google Earth. Trust me, I've tried.

Only a small inkling of that dream stays alive. I still love to travel and I want my son to love it too. I want him to want to see people and places. I want him to want to travel down the road less traveled looking for adventures that he wouldn't normally have. I want him to soak it all in. It's too bad that it's going to take most of his inheritance to show him anything but that's another post.

I've seen some pretty remarkable things. Not only have I seen a glacier calve and fall into the ocean, I've also sat on the banks of Maine and watched the fishers put out their lobster traps while the water hit the cliffs and sprayed on my face. I've been on top of Cadillac Mountain first thing in the morning when the clouds are lifting. I've braved the Bronx freeway during rush hour traffic and lived to tell about it and I've also seen a porcupine get rescued from being stuck under a building. They were all amazing experiences and they just a few of amny.

I started having these experiences at a young age when my family would just get in the car and drive. I never knew where we'd end up and that was half of the adventure. One thing I could count on was that there would be something beautiful to look at and a story to hold on to for the rest of my life.

I'm always asked why we bother to take our son places. "He's only three (or two, or one, or whatever). He'll never remember." And part of that is true. He won't remember. But because of those trips, I get beautiful pictures like this one. And I also instill a habit in him that I think is just as important as brushing his teeth or eating broccoli. I instill a love for the world.

As for things that we don't remember, I've been told that my momma and poppa took me hiking in the Smoky Mountains when I was three. I don't remember sleeping in the tent and I don't remember being carried in a backpack on my poppa's back. I also don't remember being harnessed and tied to a tree so that I wouldn't wander into the woods. All I have is this story that I've been told time and time again along with some old pictures.

But it's this story and it's the old pictures that warm my heart. I want my son to have these things. And I want to have pictures much like this one to show him.