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There is a certain magic that comes from falling asleep in the backseat and waking up far away. Like fairies, we were transported to a new world and when that world ended a short time later, we found another one to take its place. When we saw the familiar orange and white U-Haul trailer parked outside our house, we knew it was time to leave. Like an echo of times past, all five of us would jam into the car–our familial womb–along with our bewildered pets, awaiting the next stop.
Riding in the Backseat with my Brother takes readers through a journey beginning in the 1950s, steered by a dad who had wanderlust, and a nervous mother who gave her third child away following a nervous breakdown after his birth. Ourlineage of distant relatives some called gypsies, wanderers, or Irish Travelers, had not skipped this generation altogether.
As we bounced across the country, sucking up the sounds, smells, and sights of new places, the events along the way formed us, making imprints in our hearts and minds forever.
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There is a certain magic that comes from falling asleep in the backseat and waking up far away. Like fairies, we were transported to a new world and when that world ended a short time later, we found another one to take its place. When we saw the familiar orange and white U-Haul trailer parked outside our house, we knew it was time to leave. Like an echo of times past, all five of us would jam into the car–our familial womb–along with our bewildered pets, awaiting the next stop.
Riding in the Backseat with my Brother takes readers through a journey beginning in the 1950s, steered by a dad who had wanderlust, and a nervous mother who gave her third child away following a nervous breakdown after his birth. Ourlineage of distant relatives some called gypsies, wanderers, or Irish Travelers, had not skipped this generation altogether.
As we bounced across the country, sucking up the sounds, smells, and sights of new places, the events along the way formed us, making imprints in our hearts and minds forever.