My childhood wasn't at all special. I lived with 2 brothers, my mom, and my dad. My dad didn't want a girl, so he never payed too much attention to me. I had to wake up early every morning to get done with my morning chores before I went to school, so I was always tired, and I started to get bored of my daily routine.
My first time away from home was the day I turned 8. I was walking into my room when I saw a plane ticket on my bed. It was for California, a flight that would be leaving the next day. At the dinner table that night, my mom smiled at me secretively. I smiled back.
I went with only my mom. We left at night and stayed for 3 days. From the moment we stepped off the plane, I knew I wanted to travel. The sights were so different from those in my hometown. The city was bustling, and I loved how busy it was outside, but how peaceful it was in our hotel.
I was mostly just grateful for the chance to sleep in.
