Autobiography: Page 110/400

The final parties of the school year had ended, and at last it was summer.  My life rolled through the prairies and soared above oceans every year at this time.  No matter what, a window seat was mine as I gazed through the glass unto a world that belonged to itself.

I had just been admitted into teenage-dome.  Love was new and exciting and flirting with it was a new rush.  I was just beginning to fall in love with travel.  The almost stale smell of the airport, the musky smell of the bus, and the sound of rolling luggage only fueled my travel lust.  The journey getting there was a part of the reason I wanted to get there.  

As I became older and my lust only continued to ripen, I learned I was not alone.  It was a Hudkins gene to yearn for travel.  My father wandered across the world for the FBI partly just because he liked to travel.  My Aunt Lazelle had been on countless world cruises and at a recent family reunion told of her recent escapade to Cairo, Egypt, and my Uncle Keith was charting maps to sail his schooner through the Bahamas.  My heart swooned at the legacies I was bound to wistfully chase.