The trips started early.

As I awoke, I would hear the sound of the ocean waves out the window of our beachfront pink house. I would feel the warmth of the sun shining on my face as I squinted to enjoy the dimples of Scott Baio on a poster hanging on my wall.

I would dress and walk down the steps, sniffing the smell of breakfast sausages frying in a pan, and I would overhear Nana ask my early-riser brother Gavin, “Can you go to the deli and get a gallon of milk and some eggs?”