Once a summer, my family packs our things, puts the dogs in the kennel, loads in the car, and heads off somewhere. It's usually somewhere in New England, either visiting Dad's family in Connecticut or, in the past, Cape Cod. Summer simply would not be complete if we didn't go somewhere for a vacation. And every year, we have to pack first.

The packing phase typically starts a few days before we are scheduled to leave. My mother is the sort of person who needs to have everything organized and ready the night before, if not the night before that. Nothing can be forgotten, left behind, or overlooked. Combined with the sheer amount of things four people need to bring for a vacation(clothes, snacks for the car ride, drinks, toiletries, cash for souveneirs, not to mention everyone's personal bags), the process can prove incredibly stressful.

I could feel the tension in the house when I got back from work. Mom ate a small dinner before getting my sister Sheridan out the door for her dance class. Sometimes, I wonder how she manages to pull it all off. I unwound as best as I could, but everything I still had to do before we could leave was lurking in the back of my mind. Sometimes, that sort of background anxiety can motivate me. This wasn't one of those times.

Once Sheridan got back from dance, then the packing began in earnest. Me and Sheridan usually get along most of the time, but when we are tired, stressed, or both, we tend to rub each other raw. This was one of those nights. Thankfully, we kept things civil while we packed. Mom helped the two of us pick out our clothes, before calling it for the night out of exhaustion.

The next morning, we all went into overdrive. We planned to leave by 8 AM, Mom getting up at 6 to get a head start on packing. Sheridan and I got up at 6:30. Personally, I don't anticipate things very well; I have the cognitive thought "I am going on vacation tomorrow", but don't really associate a specific feeling (e.g, happiness) with that fact like the rest of my family. What I do pick up on is the stress, hovering in the air like mist. I hate when the people around me are upset; I will do anything to make them happy, for better or for worse. In times like these, that means asking "Can I do anything to help?" more times than neccesary. Sometimes, to escape the stress I go off and watch something or play something to unwind. Unfortunately, this often only leads to more stress.

After Mom made us breakfast(again, don't know how she does it), my sister and I went upstairs to finish packing. After attempting to wedge all my toiletries into the yellow bag alongside Sheridan's (and failing), I was done. I went into every room of the house to make sure I had everything. My bedroom. The bathroom. Downstairs. Once I was 100 percent certain, I brought everything down, and loaded it into the car. I think I was the the first one ready. As everyone piled into the car, buckled up, and got comfortable, I felt the stress dissipate and a sense of pleasure emerge. It was time for vacation.

Even though we left almost a hour late.