This one’s a bit closer to home for me.
Travel is only as good as the people you experience it with. And home is only as good as those you have to come back to. Luckily I get to experience travel with those that feel most like home. Luckily again, one of their homes happens to be in California now.
I’m a middle kid and swore I was adopted when I was little. My siblings have dark hair, and tan if left in the desert. Meanwhile I’m over here with blue eyes getting sunburned. But those two have been the most consistent thing in my life. I have a great older brother who kept me from getting in too much trouble, and my sister made sure we always laughed.
As kids we moved a lot due to having a split family, and slept in a different bed every other weekend. Home has some weird connotations in my mind, and doesn’t necessarily have a smell, feeling or whatever else people describe it to be. Home is a sense of connection for me. It’s the people around me, not a place. And the easiest place to feel known is with those two that have been with me the longest.
I count myself as very fortunate to get along with my brother and sister in the way we do. It might have gone differently, but because of our parents we all discovered and bonded though the outdoors at a young age and haven’t stopped playing in it since.
And don’t worry, I’m not adopted.