Mexico
Once, when I was in fourth or fifth grade, for the last week in November and the beginning of December, my parents wouldn’t let me go into the guest bedroom. I figured that was just where they were keeping the Hannukah presents, and I don’t like ruining surprises, so I kept out. At 4:30 one morning in early December, my lights flicked on. My father was holding a camera and wearing a sombrero. My mother had just put some mariachi music into the stereo by my bed. Get up and pack whatever you want to read on the plane ride , they said. We’re leaving for Mexico in twenty minutes . I hadn’t been allowed in the guest bedroom because that was where the suitcases were. My parents had been planning this for months and just decided to keep it a secret. I do...