It was on family vacation where I really learned the truth of the aphorism “wherever you go, there you are.” And: “Wherever you go with my mom, there is the car packed with towels, four pool noodles, more bags of Tostitos than family members, goggles, chairs with insulated pockets behind them so you don’t have to pack a cooler and a cooler.”

No matter how old I get or how many times my therapist says the word “boundaries,” I still go. Here’s what I’m in for:

The Morning: I wake up from the loud whispering of “She’s still sleeping” directly by my bedroom door and stumble outside. I’m full from the night before (ravioli is meant to be eaten in single digits, not triple) and I am immediately served eggs. I didn’t ask for eggs. They’ve been ready for 40 minutes. It’s 7 a.m. and I’ve just been told I overslept. The forecast is for 80 degrees and, as my mom says, “We’re not sitting inside on an 80-degree day.”

The Prep: My mom is moving at a pace so frantic you can’t see her but you feel the gust of wind as she passes. She’s gone up and down the stairs more in this one morning than I have in my entire life. The bags are packed. It looks like we are moving across the country. We are going to the lake.

The Lake: Why did we pack so much stuff? Because what if everyone in the town needs a float and a tuna sandwich? We lie down for exactly three seconds. Denise arrives with her family. We all get up and hug Denise. She asks if we’ve heard the news. My mom has heard the news. You’re not supposed to swim until an hour after you eat. My mom brings us Wheat Thins while we’re in the water. We see a loon across the lake. Mom pushes the limits of the phone’s zoom function and takes 400 pictures of it.