As we pack and prepare, gitters and excitement quickly turn into frantic, last minute rushes to the supermarket, department store, or favorite local pedicure hub (the necessities, of course). In deep thought as I strolled the isles of TjMaxx, I reflected on my travel habits, experiences, and memories.Packing was (and is) always a sore subject. A vivid memory comes to mind, me, a 12 year old, in the darkness of early dawn before heading to a week at the beach with my family. Dragging one bag, then another, down the stairs to be shoved into the back of our station wagon, I strategically exited the house through the front door where my dad couldn't see me. I snuck out to the car where I waited patiently for our voyage to begin. To make a short story long, my dad found the calf-high, platform, black boots, along with 7 other pair of outrageous foot adornments, that I was attempting to take to the beach in June. Since then, I have acquired a notoriety for being a bad packer and I've not been on a family trip that he hasn't asked if I packed my black boots.
When traveling, we sometimes forget that the importance lies not in the material items, rather the immaterial/untouchable/irreplaceable experiences and relationships we build. Most of the best memories emerge from situations that could NEVER be planned...and you were most likely NOT wearing your new, designer shoes, that you got for a really great price.
And yet, we still pack them anyways...
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