Growing up, my family didn’t take chances at the airport. My family lived by my mom’s saying “Failing to plan is planning to fail,” and especially when it came to travel, that wasn’t just a saying, it was our standard. We were always three hours early, no exceptions. My dad even made us laminated ID badges to wear around our necks like we were part of some official airport task force. Snacks? Packed. Boarding passes? Printed and backed up. Delays? Anticipated. We were ready for anything.

My mom always said, “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” It usually came out when I was full steam ahead on a terrible idea. Like the time I decided I needed a belly button piercing. My friend had one and it looked good on her, so naturally I wanted one too. I brought it up to my mom, and instead of fighting me on it, she just said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Which, let’s be honest, made me want it even more.

When we were kids, my sister and I used to play board games with our dad, and Battleship was one of our absolute favorites. It wasn’t just about sinking ships, it was about scheming, giggling, and low-key cheating in the most innocent way possible. We’d pretend we had to go to the bathroom, then sneak peeks at his board, thinking we were being so slick. The best part? We could never remember what we saw. We'd come back feeling like secret agents, only to wildly guess and completely miss. Every time my dad would calmly say, “Miss,” we’d burst into laughter like it was the funniest thing in the world.

As a kid, I was a minimalist before I even knew what that word meant. I liked my space clean, simple, and free of anything that felt “extra.” One day I decided my room needed a full reset, not a deep clean, but a purge. I started small: a stack of old clothes, a blanket I never used, a few knick knacks I was suddenly over. It felt good, lighter. So naturally, I took it a step further… and set my sights on my couch.

I still remember calling my mom in absolute tears over a C I got on a paper in college. I was an A student, straight As were my thing, so getting a C felt like total devastation. It wasn’t even my final grade, just one assignment, but at the time, it felt like the end of the world. I was dramatic, panicked, and convinced I’d just ruined my GPA and possibly my entire future (classic college meltdown energy).

One summer, my mom and I decided we were going to be those people, you know, the effortlessly minimalist, travel-light kind. We packed for our summer family vacation with the bare minimum: a few mix-and-match pieces, one tunic that could be a dress or a shirt (versatility, right?), and a single pair of pants each. It felt efficient. It felt freeing. It felt like we were winning the packing game. My sister, on the other hand, did not play the game. Unlike us, she packed her entire closet! 

One memory that still haunts me is the feeling of being completely lost and helpless. It’s the kind of thing that sticks with you, even when you try to shake it off. I can still remember the panic, the sense of time running out, and the worry that I might never find my way back. It’s hard to forget that gut-deep fear, even now.

When I was younger, my mom, my sister, my cousin, and I decided to take a weekend trip to Disneyland. We were so excited to get away, just us girls. But, of course, life had other plans. Our hotel stay was less than ideal. Imagine being woken up not once, not twice, but three times by the sound of fire alarms blaring throughout the night. Each time, we’d jump out of bed, throw on some clothes, and stand outside waiting for the all-clear, then go back into our rooms and try to sleep, only to have it happen again. It was exhausting, frustrating, and, honestly, a little ridiculous.

One of my mom’s favorite sayings is, “Be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it.” As a kid, I heard this a lot, especially when my sister and I would beg for something. We were persistent, and the more we begged, the more my mom would remind us of this proverb. The perfect example of this came when we begged for hamsters. We promised we’d take care of them, so eventually, after much convincing, my parents took us to the pet store to pick out our new furry friends.

Growing up, Christmas at the tree lot wasn’t just about picking the perfect tree. It was a full-blown adventure, and my sister and I were always at the center of it. Every year, we’d run through the trees, weaving in and out of the rows like our lives depended on it. My dad would count to ten, giving us a head start, and then we’d take off, dodging low branches and trying to blend in with the camouflage jackets we’d sometimes wear. As we got older, and a little bigger, the game got more difficult, and let’s be honest, less graceful, but that didn’t stop us. It became a tradition, no matter how ridiculous it looked.