I still remember the day we went to visit the lot for our new house. It was supposed to be a fun girls’ outing. My mom, aunt, sister, and I walked around the dirt imagining where the kitchen would go and what our rooms might look like. We were still talking about everything when we got back into the car. Somewhere between exploring and piling in, a tiny uninvited guest must have followed us, because that is when I felt it. A sharp sting. A bee had flown in, and just like that, our dreamy afternoon turned into chaos in the backseat.

My mom always said, “Look before you leap.” I didn’t think much about it until we were racing through the Dallas airport on a college visit trip, trying to make a tight connection. Our next flight was in a completely different terminal, the airport was massive, and everything felt urgent. When we reached the sky train, the doors were already open, and I slipped in without hesitation, assuming my mom was right behind me.

My mom always said, “The harder you work, the luckier you get.” This saying rang especially true in the third grade when my classroom turned reading into a competition. Every time we finished a book, we added a car to our paper train on the wall. It was simple and visual, and I liked that. And I was competitive, and I wanted my train to grow. It gave me something to work toward and made reading feel fun.

There was a time in my life when the world practically ended if I couldn’t find the perfect outfit. I didn’t throw tantrums often as a kid, but for some reason, when it came to clothes, especially for special occasions, I would completely unravel. I remember one specific day when we were getting ready to go to a family gathering. My mom, dad, sister, and I were all getting dressed, and I just could not find the right thing to wear. Nothing felt good enough. I stormed around the house, crying in frustration. 

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.