Nearly 30 years ago, we went on a vacation with my two little boys to Sanibel Island. We chose a pizza place because, why not? But the pizza they served was, of course, different from our pizza at home. I remember watching with dismay as my oldest son, Nat, who has fairly profound autism , took a bite, scrunched up his face, and said, “Vacation” with angry tears in his voice. But I always remember that moment fondly because he had found a way to express himself.

That may have been when my idea of vacation shifted away from what it had been before children, when I believed that “vacation” originated with a vision of leaving behind where you are. Who you are. To escape in such a way that this particular version of “me” gets left behind and I get to try on a new one.

With the challenges

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