At barely three years old, I used to fly to Fort Lauderdale to see my grandparents⏤by myself. My mother was hell-bent on cultivating extreme independence in me⏤and besides, you could do things like that back then.

I loved everything about the travel experience. The beautifully coiffed and prettily made up airline stewardess would take my little hand in Salisbury, Maryland, and escort me on board to one of the seats close to the front of the plane. They’d pin those little wings on my lapel and bring me a coloring pamphlet and crayons. It was like being in first class! I was fascinated by the drop-down tray tables and the scrolling window shades with a birds-eye view of the neatly plotted land below as we took off.

(Get away from it all right now. Read Gypsysoul Searching Blog)

The stewardesses were so nice, bringing me sweet apple juice and checking in with friendly smiles, then holding my hand as we deplaned and I was swept into the waiting arms of my grandparents in Florida. Because the stewardesses were so kind and pretty, I wanted to be an airline stewardess when I grew up.

Even now, I love to get on a plane and go. Airports and waiting? No problem. I love airports.    
Being a busy working mom, when I get to arrive at an airport and mill around at leisure, disconnect from my home and work life, and do something like read a book or flip through a magazine, it reminds me that I am between “worlds” and don’t need to be anywhere for anyone except myself.

I get excited to go just about anywhere⏤and I’ve also been to some pretty exciting places. But mostly, places are about people and the interactions I’ve had along the way, the moments, the memories, the travails and the triumphs, not to mention the lifelong friendships with people from all over the world. I am who I am because of the people and places I’ve experienced.

And my gypsysoul is still searching. Here’s where it goes.