Member-only story
How Letting Go Is Sometimes Just As Powerful As Forgiveness
In my opinion
Sometimes I feel like I got a late start in long-term travel, also known as a backpacker. When I was young, I had no plans of traveling outside of the US. Raised in a very red, white, and blue family where the motto was “why would you ever want to leave the US?
We have everything right here.
I was young and impressionable and was the “typical American kid.” I knew that Mexico was south and Canada was to the north. Other than that, I had no idea.
Taught that if you go to Mexico, you will probably get killed, and if you go to Canada, you will probably also get killed, except one by a gun the other by a bear.
My father’s family was some of the most racist, mean-spirited people I have ever known. They were the type of people that would not even drop me off at college that was 30 minutes away because it was “too far.”
They disapproved of me going to college since I was supposed to stay and work on the farm since they took my family and me in as orphans, and we “owed them.”
At this point, my grandmother had early Alzheimers and was the only one in the family that was kind, and everyone loved her.
