Jul 13th, 2016 by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

At age eleven I begged to travel to Venice, to see those water streets.

“My desert baby has wanderlust,” Mama laughed.

On weekends, if we had money for gas, she’d tell me, “Pick a direction.”

We stopped at roadside attractions to buy those tiny spoons. We ate questionable tamales. We took pictures with four different Paul Bunyan statues.

For my sixteenth birthday, we followed highway signs promising The Thing. Surprise! It was a fake mummy. Stomach dropping, I realized people like us never saw the Grand Canal.

“We’re lucky,” Mama whispered. “Italians don’t even dream about seeing something like this.”

From Guest Contributor L.L. Madrid

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