I grew up in rural Iowa, where "traveling" meant a car trip to South Dakota to visit relatives. Or possibly Minnesota to see old family friends. I vaguely remember Dad flying out of the small Sioux City airport. Except for an out-of-the-ordinary trip to the west coast when I was 7, the midwest was my stomping ground.
I've traveled a bit with my husband, even overseas, but last week was my first trip away on a plane by myself. (I know, I'm a "late" bloomer as far as worldliness is involved.) I flew to south Florida to visit my daughter who teaches in a private school.
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