What Home Means to Me

I could go on a rant about how home is four walls and a roof, but it's really not for me. It's travel, adventure, and the unknown. How I came to love travel is being exposed to it at a very young age; at 9, I was backpacking around Vietnam. My backpack was my home. At 11, I went on a cross country trip across Canada; the back of my dad's truck was our home. During my cross-country trip, we went to lots of places like Quebec, Badlands, Lunenburg, Niagara Falls, Canmore and the Rockies but the place that stood out to me the most and gave me a really sense of family was Canmore because my dad grew up there. Seeing all the places that he hung out was much different than where i live. I was seeing how different people live in different places, like my dad was showing me different places where he used to play and his old house. t was all interesting to me since my dad showed us a bridge that he used to jump off. I would never imagine doing that, but it sounded fun. It taught me a lot of things actually, but I can't really list them because it was just, I don't really know how to explain it. I've lived in three different houses, but I've had many different homes. It is not just the buildings I lived in but the people that I surrounded myself with: my family!