And so it begins…

All my life, I have lived with the most incredible case of wanderlust.

I’m not sure if the is because of the frequent family outings my parents took me on when I was a little girl.

Every few months I would be packed into the back seat of the family car and then driven from Toronto to relatives in Cleveland, Maryland or Virginia.

Shorter trips would take us to Niagara Falls, Windsor or Algonquin Park.

Or maybe the wanderlust is directly inherited from my maternal grandparents who never seemed to stay in one place for as long as it took to drink a cup of coffee.

If they weren’t at home in Germany, they would be visiting us here in Canada or my Aunt, Uncle and cousins in Virginia. In between visits to us, they would be trekking to churches in Austria, Serbia, or some Scandinavian country.

Trust me, I have the postcards, and souvenirs to prove it.

And so, without fail, every other month or so, I begin to sense a vague longing to choose a destination, locate a suitcase, and pack as lightly as I possibly can…

Which usually means packing two suitcases.

Until my next post…

 

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