the ghosts of vacations past.

I don't know whether I've traveled a lot or barely scraped the surface (truthfully, it's probably somewhere in the middle), because it depends on whom you ask, but I have a fair amount of memories from vacations stockpiled in my brain. I like to play 'remember when' and imagine I'm there again. These are some things I remember, going back in time.

I remember New York in sixth grade. It was March, and bitterly cold. Don't go to New York in March if you can avoid it. It doesn't have the magic of the holidays and Central Park is too dead to house the picnics and music it's famous for. It's still fun, though. I saw the Statue of Liberty, went to the MoMA and the Guggenheim (but not the Met, go figure) and stayed in the smallest hotel room ever.

I remember Chicago, the summer after fourth grade. We went to Navy Pier and I rode, half petrified, in the Ferris wheel. I remember the hall of mirrors, and my cousin screaming "I found the exit!" only to hear a big crash two seconds later.

I remember taking the bus to Mexico with my dad and my sister when I was seven. We went to Monterrey where the mountains rose around us and the air was sticky and hot. I remember my sister throwing up after breakfast in a little cafe. I'm sorry for that image, but that's a part of vacations, too, you know? I'm just keeping it real.

I remember Florida, for Thanksgiving in first grade, maybe? It was the furthest east in the U.S. I'd ever been. I went to the ocean, but most of my memories revolve around pilgrims and Indians. That's how it is when you're little.

I remember Germany, when I was four, the last time I was in Europe. But that is a lie. The only thing I remember about Germany is something I thought for the longest time was a dream. I was standing on a platform when a train pulled up. Everyone around me rushed on and I tried to do the same, but the doors closed and the train sped off before I could. Luckily, my aunt was with me.

What do you remember?

Kendall