Summer vacation: the beacon of hope glimmering at the end of a long year of school, work and potty training. Our departure date is circled in red marker on the family calendar. My eight younger siblings (yes, eight, you read that right) know what that red circle means. It means our yearly journey to the mountains is upon us; it means the countdown for leaving Florida has begun.

 Planning a trip for 11 people is no small feat. Once the job-holding members of our clan secure three weeks of vacation, the frenzied packing spree begins. Mom types detailed packing lists and carefully explains what we can and cannot bring on the journey.  “Yes, EVERYONE has to bring/wear socks!” Then the buddy system comes into play: each older child is given a younger child to be responsible for. You pack your clothes, you pack your buddy’s clothes, and you feed your buddy when he or she looks hungry. Like members of a rag-tag football team, we each know our jobs, our responsibilities, and we know the benefits of working hard. We know that the harder we work and the less we fight with each other, the sooner we can leave Florida.

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The day before we leave, the house is a whirlwind of activity. Clothes are being washed and folded to pack into our 1998 Winnebago Brave, fondly named “Willis.” (Not sure why we chose that name.) Willis’ compartments are filled with anything and everything. Sure, we are going to the mountains, but what are those majestic slopes without a full supply of Disney movies? In our house, trash bags take the place of suitcases. Mom says you can fit just as much stuff into them. One by one, we drag our trash bags full of clothes to the RV. Little brothers and sisters help where they can, but spend most of the time asking, “When is it time to leave? How many more minutes until we can go?” Mom is heading up the effort by shouting out random things that need to be thrown into Willis before we drive away.

“Somebody pack the toothbrushes,” She yells. “And diapers, do not forget either of those.” I dash away to locate these items, certain that we don’t want a repeat of last year’s vacation with 11 people, but only six toothbrushes. You do the math.

By evening, all of us are exhausted. As I tuck my siblings into bed, they look up at me with shining eyes and ask when we’re leaving one more time. Sleep was in short supply that night; we were all too excited to sleep. When our alarm clocks ring at 4:30 a.m., we stumble up Willis’ steps and buckle in still half asleep. Dad turns the key, and I hear the rumble of the generator. He looks back at us, smiles and pulls out of the driveway onto the main road. New York, ready or not, here we come! I look out the window, take a deep breath and turn my face up to the moonlight. In that pristine, beautiful moment, I realize one very important thing: I forgot the toothbrushes. 
  







Jim Lazzarino, recently featured in Better RVing.com print magazine is the proud father of the family and the owner of that 1998 Winnebago Brave that has seen many mountain trips. He still has his eyes on his dream RV— a Fleetwood Terra 34 B, complete with bunkhouse.