My parents provided me with so much as I grew up.
They gave me the love of travel. When I was 12, my dad taught in Singapore for six months, and my half-year stay in Southeast Asia inspired my curiosity about different cultures and places.
They gave me a love of words. To hear them tell it, I read book after book (kind of like a certain toddler I know). One of my earliest memories is “writing” letters—squiggly lines across a sheet of paper—that I’d “mail” to family members. I now make my living as a writer and am so fortunate to work in my dream career.
But one thing I value over every other gift: They gave me siblings.
