My love of traveling was kindled during the summers between my first years of elementary school. Entire months were filled with family road trips to far away places. I learned how to survive in tight quarters with my brother in the back seat of our green Toyota Tundra with pillows and backpacks piled so high my dad had to crane his neck to peer out the rear window. On curvy roads, I often sat in the coveted front passenger’s seat, watching the road in front of me unwind as we drove through tall evergreens or into deep canyons. And time in the passenger’s seat also meant you had to navigate. With a road map spread open on my lap, I was introduced to the wonderful world that exists on its surface. I carefully learned to navigate this three dimensional world using a two dimensional piece of paper filled with colors and lines that combine to create a beautiful snapshot of the world around me.

It is hard to truly understand how much goes into our family road trips. There are months of planning, Google mapping, reserving hotels, buying tickets and looking for scenic routes, but it doesn’t mean anything until it actually happens. I spend thirty-five days traveling across America watching the world pass by. A thousand miles are added to our trip counter before we’re even half way finished. Each evening, I blog to document my travels, and I turn to these entries often to remind myself of my adventures

We rarely have a single final destination other than home, of course. I’ve seen Old Faithful erupt in Yellowstone National Park and stared at the lights high above me in Times Square. I’ve wandered through corn fields in Indiana and climbed the Rockies in Colorado. I’ve been to all but one of the US states! For a while there were still two I was anxious to check off my list, but on a cruise I reached Alaska, my 49th state, when I was just sixteen.

All travels are about the journey, the people one meets, and the places one passes by. It’s about the impact you’re able to have on people and about the moments that take your breath away. It’s about spontaneity and bonding. You must be patient and observant. I once watched an elderly man touch the sea. His dusty cowboy boots turned dark from the ocean’s spray and his heels dug deep holes into the soft sand. I learned it was the first time he had ever touched the ocean.

Though I may not walk through life with a physical map in my hand, I still use one to guide me. It is my mental map filled with memories and observations of the world. It steers me away from trouble and towards joy. It is how I make sense of the changing environment that surrounds me and it develops and grows daily. With this map in my left hand and my never-ending sense of adventure in my right, I am ready to embark on this road trip through life.