“Should I bring my snow boots with me?” Laura Mulligan asked her father as she double-checked the packing list for her freshman year of college. The list had been created, laminated, and handed to her by the obsessive list-maker that was her mother. Usually, Laura didn’t use her mother’s lists, but this time she was nervous enough to defer to it.

“Last I checked, Southern California doesn’t get a lot of snow—which might be a nice change of pace for you.” Mr. Mulligan responded behind his Saturday morning newspaper.

“Yeah. Though I don’t know what I’ll do if I get a hankering for a lobster roll.”

“Well, I would be willing to bet that there are lobsters in the Pacific Ocean, too.”

“Yeah, but not Maine lobster.”

“Mmmm,” he said, finally turning away from his newspaper, “I see. Perhaps we could overnight you some a couple times throughout the semester.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Or maybe you could come back and visit us periodically?”

Laura smiled and climbed into her dad’s lap as if she were half her age. “Okay!”

As she cuddled into him, he caressed her hair and rested his chin on her head. “You are going to have a wonderful adventure out west. We will be right here for you whenever you want to come home—and I personally hope you will. But I suspect once you get there, your inner explorer will take over. Coming home may even end up sounding boring.” Then he resorted to the five words he had repeated to both his daughters for as long as they could remember: “Everything happens for a reason.”

The first semester of shyness, new friends, and constant calls back home drifted into the second semester of boldness, friends-for-life, and calls home every now and again. Laura learned to be a person outside of being a daughter and a sister. At Thanksgiving, she promised her little sister, Katie, that she would return for Christmas and Spring Break. Though she loved the California sun, she did end up missing the snow—until she came home for Christmas and got snowed in for half her winter break. She binged on lobster rolls while home, but missed the Mexican food at school. Then on New Year’s Day, she announced to the Mulligan clan that she would not be coming home for Spring Break.

Laura had originally called her dad in hopes that he would break the news to the other two for her, but she was already on speaker phone by the time he answered the phone. “You’re not coming back to Maine? But you promised!” Katie’s voice squeaked through Laura’s cellphone.

“Sweetie, if any of us were choosing between Maine and Mexico, we would all choose Mexico, too,” Mrs. Mulligan pointed out.

“So, I guess at this point, home isn’t exactly your main destination anymore.”

“Oh my god, Dad. Really? Laura, come home. You left me all alone with his Dad Jokes. ALL ALONE.”

“Well, if you’re tired of my jokes, let’s get serious. How about after Laura gets home for the summer, Mom and I take you girls to the south of France for a few weeks?”

Katie’s squeal of excitement was so loud that Laura had a ringing in her ear for the rest of the day.

The fun started with the planning. Over the next few months, they all four read different guidebooks about the south of France, then each made a list with preferred sites, restaurants, and cities to explore. Mom and Dad then took the reins, preparing a schedule and booking accommodations. By the time Laura came home from her first year away at college, Mom was handing out laminated packing lists for everyone, which – as always – they thanked her for fervently with no intention of ever using.

“You know,” Mrs. Mulligan said as she peeked into Laura’s room while she was preparing for their family vacation, “if you’re not going to use my lists, I’m going to stop making them for you.”

“You will?”

“Well, maybe I’ll just make a suggestion one that you can peek at if you need help.”

“I really appreciate the help, Mom,” Laura began as she picked up the packing list for the south of France that she wasn’t using, “but I don’t think I need – what was it – ‘3 pairs of underwear, 3 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of pants, and 2 shirts’ in my carry on.”

“We are going to Europe. That’s trans-continental travel. The farther you go, the more likely the airline will lose your bag.”

Katie stuck her head in the room to chime in. “Yes, Mom. We remember. But you’ve done that our whole lives on every trip, no matter the distance, and they’ve literally never lost our bags. I think we’ll be fine.”

“Fine!” Mom said. “Since everyone thinks I’m being ridiculous, I’ll stop preparing for worst-case scenarios.”

“You might find it freeing,” Laura yelled encouragingly to her mother who was already half-way down the hallway.

“I know we tease her for expecting the worst all the time,” Katie said to Laura, “but if lost bags is her idea of a worst-case scenario when planning to trap herself in 200 tons of aluminum, titanium, and steel while more or less floating on air 7 miles above the Atlantic Ocean for 6 hours, then she might actually be an optimist.”

Cocking her head, Laura squinted at Katie in shock and amazement. Unsure whether to express pride or tease her little sister, Laura called her the one thing that accomplished both: “Nerd.”

Despite Katie’s intimidating spin on the flight, the Mulligans made it across the lobster-rich Atlantic Ocean to Bordeaux.

“Wait, so we’re not even going to see the Eiffel Tower?” Laura asked as she beat her dad to her suitcase on the baggage carousel.

“Here, I can get that sweetie.”

“Dad, if I am a big enough girl to live 3,000 miles away from you, then I think I can also handle my own suitcase.”

Conceding the bag, he focused instead on her question. “The Eiffel Tower is in Paris, about 310 miles northeast from here.”

“Oh, so like 500 kilometers,” Katie said as her dad pulled her suitcase off the carousel.

Her mother turned to her. “Kilometers?”

“Yeah, we’re in Europe now. They use the metric system here.”

Laura moved toward the carousel for her dad’s bag.

He tried to get to it first. “Oh, are you also a big enough girl to get my bag, too?”

“Come on, Dad. You’re old; you’ll probably throw out your back.”

“Yes,” her mom responded to Katie, “but how do you know how many kilometers 300 miles is?”

“310 miles. I read a lot.”

Laura joined Katie’s side with her and her dad’s suitcase. “Reading taught you to convert miles into kilometers?”

“Yep.” Katie reached for her bag from her dad, while he reached for his from Laura.

“If this is musical suitcases, then I guess I lose,” Mrs. Mulligan said.

“There’s hardly any bags left on the carousel,” Laura reassured her. “It’s probably about to show up.”

“I’m sure it is.” Mrs. Mulligan, with a mischievous smile, grabbed Laura’s suitcase from her and sat on it. “And since your father and I are so old, I’m sure you won’t mind being the one left standing while we wait for it.”

They waited until every last bag was taken; until no one else was left waiting by the baggage carousel; until the carousel turned off with a loud thunk. Neither daughter dared make a comment while they reported the lost luggage. They only looked at each other and smiled when Mrs. Mulligan wasn’t looking.

Once they got on the train that whisked them away from Bordeaux toward the eastern shores of the ocean they frequented back home, Katie couldn’t take it any longer. “Mom,” she said with a smile. “I can’t believe they lost your bag. I guess it’s a good thing that you prepared for that after all.”

“I didn’t,” Mrs. Mulligan responded.

“What?”

“You two,” Mrs. Mulligan gestured dramatically toward her daughters, “made such a stink about me over-preparing, so for once in my life, I didn’t pack any underwear or socks in my carry on!” Then she turned to her husband. “Can you believe these two jinxed me?”

Mr. Mulligan shrugged, trying not to laugh.

Mrs. Mulligan straightened her posture and settled into her seat. “You better believe I will absolutely have socks and underwear in every carry on I pack from now on until the end of my days”.

Katie and Laura half-tried to quiet their snickering. Mr. Mulligan rolled his eyes and shrugged, conceding to the mystery of life. “Everything happens for a reason.”

…to be continued…