My mom was around 22 years old, she didn’t have any idea what would happen to her, where she would end up going or the fact, that she wouldn’t see her family again for a decade. She ultimately arrived safely at the refugee camp, sneaking into some side entrance – barely making it pass the guards who were arresting another large group of people at the front gate. She was in the refugee camp for five months in Thailand, then was transferred to another refugee camp in the Philippines for six months, before she arrived in San Francisco and was then transferred to Philadelphia. My parents got married in 1981 – they knew each other in Laos, but never hung out, according to my mom, she was told to steer clear of him because he had a reputation as a "playa". I was born five years after my mom made that life-changing decision to leave Laos. She told me she left because she wanted freedom. I can’t help but think there is a connection with my innate love of travel and sense of urgency to see the world to my mom’s fateful decision. I’ve always explained that traveling frees me from the constraints of everyday life --- I breathe easier, I’m happier, I’m able to see things in a positive light, things that in the larger scheme of life really matter. And I’m able to have these experiences because of my mom (and dad) – because of her decision on that day almost 34 years ago.